


For The World Has Passed Away

by Bunney



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Titanic (1997)
Genre: Dramione Remix, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-17
Updated: 2012-03-17
Packaged: 2017-11-02 01:43:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 35,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/363621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunney/pseuds/Bunney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco Malfoy is trapped in an engagement to a woman he does not love, but on a fateful voyage to America, he meets another woman who will change his life and show him that love is worth dying for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is loosely based on James Cameron's 1997 movie, Titanic, starring Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet, but it draws more from the real tragedy of the RMS Titanic and her first, and last, voyage in 1912. There is some dialogue that borrows from the film, either in part or verbatim.
> 
> While I have attempted to keep to the spirit of the late Edwardian era, and have tried to remain faithful to the details regarding Titanic's tragic end, information is, understandably, sketchy and contradictory. I did extensive research on both the ship and the time period in which this story takes place, but I'm sure mistakes have been made, and I take responsibility for those mistakes.
> 
> The title for this story is paraphrased from Revelation 21:4, KJV:
> 
> And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.

**CHAPTER ONE**

10 April 1912  
Southampton, England

 

The ship was the largest vessel ever constructed.

The popular publications of the day had proclaimed White Star Line's newest luxury ship “practically unsinkable,” and, from Draco Malfoy's perspective as he stood in her massive shadow on the Southampton pier, the RMS _Titanic_ looked invincible indeed. 

Although the day had started out foggy and overcast, around mid-morning the sun had finally made a brief appearance and was now gleaming off of the four towering funnels. Draco shielded his eyes against the glare; he could see the flurry of activity on the upper decks as the ship was being readied for departure. 

The crush of humanity beginning to flood the pier was overwhelming and, despite himself, Draco could not resist the thrill of excitement he was feeling for the voyage ahead.

If only he were embarking on an adventure, rather than to the prison of an arranged marriage to a woman he didn't love.

Draco's reverie was interrupted by his father's voice directing the porters who were attending to their luggage. At least he was not complaining about the indignity of being forced to mingle with the “filthy heathens,” as he so frequently referred to anyone he felt was beneath him.

Which, in the case of Lucius Malfoy, was nearly everyone he chanced to encounter. 

On more than one occasion, Draco had wondered if his father secretly referred to his only child as one of those "filthy heathens." He thought the answer might well be an unequivocal "yes," given the fact that Lucius rarely, if ever, found favor with Draco.

As Draco continued to watch the queuing crowd make their way up the four long gangways and into the ship, a small, gloved hand was tucked into the crook of his arm. He glanced over at the young woman now standing beside him. She was quite fashionably dressed in a green and white striped silk dress, her face cast into shadow by the brim of her hat, but even so, Draco could still see the petulant turn of her lips. 

"It's quite small, isn't it? From what I've read in _The Times_ , I was expecting a boat at least as large as the _Lusitania_ ," Astoria Greengrass, Draco's fiancée, murmured in his ear. 

"For God's sake, Astoria, _Titanic_ is a full one hundred feet longer than _Lusitania_! And it's a ship, not a boat. They're calling it the 'ship of dreams,' you know." Draco instantly regretted his sharp words, but Astoria didn't notice his peevishness as she readjusted her hold on his arm.

"Ship, boat, who cares? As long as it's as luxurious as the papers are saying, I'll be quite happy. Papa's booked the most exclusive suites." 

"So I've heard," Draco replied, but a loud thump from behind them muffled his indifferent response.

Astoria looked over her shoulder. "You, there! Please be more careful with that trunk. It's worth more than you'll earn in a year!" she snapped at the porter loading their luggage onto a large trolley. "Mama! Mama, look there, he's scuffed the corner of my Vuitton trunk. I'll need a new one when we dock in New York. Mama, please ask Papa if he will buy me a new trunk-"

To Draco's immense relief, Astoria's concern for her steamer trunk – one of five that she was bringing to New York with her – overrode her desire to be seen on his arm. As she hurried over to appeal to her weak-willed father, Draco sighed, the weight of his future settling heavily atop his shoulders. 

Draco's mother, Narcissa Black Malfoy, had died suddenly when he had just turned eighteen and the privileged life that he had always accepted as his due had vanished not long after. Lucius had remained secretive about the details, but rumors had quickly spread and before long, Draco grasped the fact that their fortune was mostly gone.

The story Draco was able to piece together was that Lucius had squandered much of his wife's estate in one mad scheme after another, including financially backing a controversial political candidate who had been just as controversially murdered while in the intimate company of a woman of questionable morals. The ensuing scandal played out in lurid fashion in the papers, nearly ruining Draco's remaining two years at school. Only his excellent record at university and being well regarded by the faculty had protected him from the embarrassment brought on him by Lucius's misdeeds. 

In an effort to distance himself from the awkward situation, Lucius had appealed to his old acquaintance, Wallace Greengrass, offering his son as husband for his youngest daughter Astoria. While Lucius might have been a disreputable gentleman, Draco had graduated at the top of his class at Eton and later excelled at St. Andrews. He was easily able to secure a place with a well-known brokerage firm in Manhattan. 

Narcissa Malfoy's sterling reputation still carried some weight and, with his handsome looks and sharp intelligence, Draco's future was bright. He would make any young woman an admirable husband.

Wallace Greengrass, a wealthy but timorous man, had always been quite intimidated by Lucius Malfoy, so he had agreed to the proposed arrangement, despite his wife's objection and his daughter's stormy tears. Astoria had quickly come around after meeting Draco and finding him agreeable, but Veronica Greengrass remained cold towards her future son-in-law and icier still towards Lucius. It little concerned either man; in 1912, a woman's opinion in these matters was negligible at best.

"Impressive, is it not, Draco?" 

Draco turned to find his mentor, Severus Snape, staring up at the ship, his expression as inscrutable as always. 

"Impressive, yes," Draco said. "As impressive as the Tower of London."

Snape's lips quirked in wry amusement. "Comparing the greatest ship ever built, as _The Times_ has so graciously informed us, to a prison. Rather an extreme view, wouldn't you say?"

Draco smiled faintly. "You've met my gaoler, Severus. She's the one in the Worth gown, weeping over her suitcase."

Snape's sneer became a genuine smile, albeit a brief one. "Draco, we live in enlightened times; no man would fault you for asserting your control over your wife. Miss Greengrass has been given far too much freedom, as her parents set a poor example for her and her poorly wed sister, Daphne. If Wallace Greengrass can be applauded for anything at all, it's having seen the wisdom of marrying his daughter to quality over wealth."

"Wallace Greengrass is wealthy enough for the lot of us," Draco said. "Damn my father for a fool, Severus!"

"Silence!" Snape hissed in his ear. "You don't want to be overheard, Draco - there are ears everywhere." As if to punctuate his words, Snape inclined his head towards one of the porters, who was unabashedly listening to their conversation. He caught Snape's eye and turned reluctantly away. Snape took Draco's arm and pulled him away from their entourage.

"Listen to me. You have a brilliant future ahead of you, Draco. Your father's poor decisions notwithstanding, you will be able to start a new life in America. It is a country that welcomes the tired and the poor..." At this, his lip curled with a hint of contempt. "... and with any luck and a lot of talent, you will be able to shed the shackles of Lucius's folly and be known for the great man you have the opportunity to become."

"But Astoria-"

"Astoria is a typical woman, and if you treat her as such, she will be a good wife to you. Allow her the fripperies she so desires, Draco – jewels, furs, a vacation home at the shore – and she will be your greatest asset."

Draco knew that his mentor was correct. His betrothal to the wealthy young heiress was really the best thing that had happened to him since his acceptance to St. Andrews. What right had he to want anything more? 

A tiny voice niggled, though. _What of love?_ it said. _What of happiness?_

He ruthlessly squashed it and squared his shoulders as the ship's sonorous horn blew, frightening a small flock of white seabirds perched on one of the funnels and sending them squawking into the sky. He nodded firmly, carefully hiding his depression from Snape's sharp eyes.

"Then, on to America we go, Severus. Shall we board?"

**********

"Would you look at that?" Harry Potter whistled in appreciation as he hefted his canvas carryall onto his shoulder. "Look, Hermione! It's enormous!"

When his companion didn't answer, he turned to look for her and couldn't help but laugh. Hermione Granger was never without a book in her hand and today of all days was no exception. The queue for Third Class embarkation had stalled and they were waiting patiently for the line to start moving forward again. Hermione had taken the opportunity provided to write.

Her head was bent over her open journal, her brow furrowed as she concentrated on recording her thoughts on the empty page.

"Hermione, love. Put that away for now; the queue is moving again," Harry said, reaching down to pick up his cousin's small suitcase.

Hermione looked up, a bright smile on her face. "I'm sorry! I'm just amazed at everything, Harry! I'm afraid I'm going to forget something, so I have to write it down straight away." 

She reverently closed her journal and tied the leather strings to hold it shut. She slipped it into the pocket of her coat, then linked her arm with Harry's as the queue once more began moving towards the gangway.

"Well, if you don't have a look around, you won't have anything to write in your book! Blimey, Hermione, look there!"

Hermione followed his pointing finger. A woman wearing an enormous yellow hat was walking past, leading two large Afghan hounds on leashes. Both dogs were holding their aristocratic heads in the same snooty pose as their mistress as they trotted beside her. Hermione and Harry exchanged a surprised look, then giggled like children over the peculiar scene.

"Even the dogs are snobs in First Class!" Harry said, as he wiped away mirthful tears from behind his round spectacles. "Give me Third Class any day; I don't want to mingle with the likes of _that_ lot!"

Hermione laughed with him, but wistfully watched the First Class passengers queuing up to the gangway that would take them to "B" Deck. The women were elegantly dressed, in their elaborate, feathered hats and fur-trimmed coats, and the men wore jaunty top hats, and carried walking sticks in their gloved hands. It was all so very glamorous to Hermione's eyes.

Her attention was caught by the gleam of the weak sunlight on one man's very pale blond hair. A tall woman accompanied him, her hair as dark as his was light. An enormous white hat sporting an elaborate green bow shielded her face, but Hermione could see that it was set in an expression of supercilious boredom. Hermione looked back at the man, hoping to catch a glimpse of _his_ face, but at that moment he turned away to speak to the woman on his arm. They passed by and were swallowed out of sight by the gathering crowd on the dock.

The queue started moving again as _Titanic's_ horn blew. Hardly able to contain her excitement, Hermione gripped Harry's arm a bit tighter as they stepped on the gangway to "E" Deck.

**********

Draco removed his overcoat and draped it over the back of a nearby armchair, then turned to survey the large room with a curious eye.

The parlour was lavishly decorated, with dark, carved furniture in the Queen Anne style. The electric wall sconces were a shining bronze topped with alabaster shades. There were two staterooms, both equally posh, as was the _en suite_ lavatory. A rich, jewel-toned Persian carpet covered the floor.

Even Lucius Malfoy would not be able to find fault with _Titanic_.

Draco dropped down onto the settee with a heavy sigh. Lucius, who had followed him into the parlour, gave him a sharp look.

"Draco, you are acting as if it is the end of the world. I thought you wanted to move to America," he said as he crossed the room to the stocked wine cabinet, surveying the options before pouring himself a Scotch. 

Severus Snape had eschewed a seat for a position near the window, where he now stood gazing out, a pensive frown on his brow. He turned his head slightly at Lucius's exasperated declaration, but did not take his eyes off of the receding shoreline. 

"Draco understands what's expected of him, Lucius," he said mildly.

Lucius was not fond of Draco's mentor and would have preferred the man had stayed behind, but Draco had insisted that he accompany them to New York. Despite his distaste for him, Lucius had capitulated.

"He should put a better face on his enthusiasm, Snape, or Miss Greengrass may decide Draco isn't worth her affections after all. Then where would he be, I ask you?"

Severus settled his cool gaze on Lucius. "I would presume he would be in the same place he would have been had Miss Greengrass not accepted Draco's proposal." He said this with a cynical turn of his lips, knowing full well that Miss Greengrass, like Draco, hadn't had a choice in the matter at all. "Draco would still have a place with Haversham and Finley, and we would still be _en route_ to New York."

He looked around the sumptuous suite and his smile became a sneer. 

"Albeit in far less luxurious accommodations."

Lucius flushed, bristling at the implicit insult. "Now, see here, Snape-"

"I'm going out." Draco stood and snatched up his overcoat. "I won't sit here and listen to the pair of you discussing me like a prize bull at auction!"

As the two older men watched in surprise, Draco stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

**********

A few minutes past noon, _Titanic_ departed Southampton, England and, after a near-miss with the SS _New York_ in which that ship was torn from its moorings as it was caught in the suction of the larger ship's passing, set a course for Cherbourg, France. The decks were crowded with passengers watching England fade into the distance; children still clung to the railings and waved, even though the loved ones left behind were long out of view.

Draco stepped out onto "A" Deck, pausing to allow a trio of young women to pass before him; they each gave him an appreciative glance, even the youngest, who looked to be no more than twelve or thirteen years old. He winked at the girl. She blushed and put her nose in the air, no doubt in imitation of her older sisters. As they strolled down the Promenade, pale, willowy blossoms in their silk gowns, Draco turned and walked towards the bow, where it seemed fewer people had congregated. 

The sea air was cool, although the sun emerging from behind the clouds was exceedingly warm; Draco soon regretted wearing his wool overcoat, although to have gone out without it would have been in poor taste. With a bitter snort, he leaned against the starboard railing, the breeze caused by _Titanic's_ swift passage ruffling his blond hair.

While his attendance at St. Andrews had been the culmination of his mother's fondest dreams, Draco had been taken aback by the conceit and snobbery of his classmates. He had come from the same world as they, but where the young men in Draco's social society had been arrogant in their superiority, so sure of their place in the world, Draco had grown ever more disillusioned with it, especially after word of Lucius Malfoy's offenses had come to light.

Lucius had taken any decision Draco might have made regarding his future out of his hands, first by securing his marriage to Astoria, then pressuring Draco into accepting employment in America, for a position he had little interest in. 

He had nearly rebelled, but Lucius, knowing his son far too well, had invoked Narcissa's cherished memory. She had wished for nothing more than for Draco to be successful and wealthy, a worthy successor to the Black family's name, and the only way to ensure that was to follow he path Lucius had laid out for him. 

Draco, with a sinking sense of finality, had at last deferred to his father. Now here he was, _en route_ to New York, to a life he didn't ask for and didn't want. He would do what was expected of him, of course, because he had little choice, but giving up the dreams he'd had for himself was bitter indeed. Astoria would be a good wife, as Severus said, but Draco knew in the deepest part of his heart that there would be no joy with her.

Draco pulled out his pocket watch to see the time. It would be hours before _Titanic_ docked at Cherbourg. With resignation steeling his spine, Draco resumed his exploration of the ship, not yet ready to return to his father's sure displeasure.

**********

Hermione easily found her cabin on "F" Deck aft (Harry's cabin was forward, and up one deck), despite the multi-lingual crush of passengers clogging the corridors. What Hermione found when she opened the door was a small but well-appointed room with four bunks, each made up with a comfortable mattress, one thick feather pillow, and a warm woolen blanket. A white porcelain sink and cistern were mounted on the wall between the bunks, with a plain rectangular mirror hanging above it.

Lifting the corner of the blanket covering one of the bunks and finding a bare mattress underneath, Hermione smiled and shook her head. Her mother's anxious insistence on including a set of clean linens in both her and Harry's baggage was well appreciated now.

As it didn't appear that she had roommates, or perhaps they hadn't arrived yet, Hermione chose one of the lower bunks and, after making up the bedding, she emptied the contents of her suitcase to air them out. 

She could have brought more with her – her circumstances weren't as poor as her meager wardrobe suggested – but she was embarking on a new life in America, and chose to not bog herself down with things as frivolous as dresses and other fripperies. She'd brought only what she needed. 

To her surprise, Hermione found a silk shawl, carefully wrapped in tissue, in the bottom of her suitcase. She withdrew it and spread it out on her lap, sighing in delight. 

It was a rich, brilliant crimson, the floral pattern reminiscent of the Oriental style recently made popular by Poiret. Long red tassels decorated each corner. 

Hermione shook it out and caught a whiff of her mother's perfume; the heady lilac scent enveloped her as she draped the shawl over her shoulders. The thoughtfulness of her mother's unexpected gesture brought tears to her eyes. 

She folded it again, then wiped her damp cheeks with the back of her hand. _It won't do to shed tears now,_ she thought. _Harry will notice and it will only make him worry._

Moving to America had been her idea, after all, and he had agreed to accompany her so that her parents would allow her to go. Her father, in his gentle, dreamy way, understood and encouraged her wanderlust, but her mother... well, Hermione was her only child and Mrs. Granger had so hoped that her daughter would marry and start a family of her own. Mrs. Granger had tried to hide her grief behind anger and their last few days together had been tense.

Hermione touched the soft shawl again, letting the silken tassels slip between her fingers. Perhaps her mother wasn't so angry after all.

**********

11 April 1912  
 _En route_ to Queenstown, Ireland

 

Breakfast was a lively affair and, for a brief time, Draco's melancholy eased. 

The First Class dining saloon was a luxurious and sun-filled space, and Draco, Lucius, and the Greengrass family were seated at a large table near the port side windows. They were joined by a rather pompous gentleman who had boarded at Cherbourg and was traveling home to his family; an older couple named Hays that, despite their pleasant demeanor, had a supercilious manner that Draco found insufferable; and lastly, another Cherbourg passenger named Mrs. Margaret Brown, who was traveling home to Colorado.

Draco had taken a particular liking to the brash woman, and she to him. While Astoria chatted politely with her mother and Mrs. Hays, and the other gentlemen spoke of business matters that did not interest him in the least, Draco gave Mrs. Brown his full attention and was soon laughing aloud at her entertaining stories.

Draco set aside his teacup and smiled at his companion. "I envy you your exciting life, Mrs. Brown," he said lightly. 

She looked curiously at him. "How do you reckon that, son?"

Draco glanced over at Lucius, who was deep in discussion with the man who had boarded at Cherbourg and whose name Draco had already forgotten. Astoria was likewise engaged. He met Mrs. Brown's eyes again and something in her shrewd, knowing gaze gave him pause, so he cautiously chose his next words.

"I... well, I've not had much in the way of an adventurous life, you see," he admitted. "This is probably the most exciting thing I've ever done." 

"How old are you, sonny?" she asked.

"I'll be twenty-two in June, ma'am."

Her round face crinkled affectionately and she patted his arm. "Still a babe," she said, but Draco could not take offense. Mrs. Brown's forthright manner set him at ease in a way he had never felt before in the company of the sort of people his father or the Greengrasses preferred.

Unbidden, his gaze drifted back to Astoria and his earlier gloom reappeared. She was in her element and holding court like the princess her parents had raised her, had _formed_ her, to be. Every gesture, every word was meticulously crafted to charm and bewitch, and she was certain, oh so certain, of her ability to captivate everyone she met.

He turned back to Mrs. Brown and saw the curiosity in her eyes. He sat up a bit straighter, ashamed at being caught in a moment of weakness. 

"Sometimes I think my life is over before it's even begun," he said with wry humor.

"You're young, yet, Draco." Mrs. Brown nodded towards Astoria. "Is she your childhood sweetheart?"

Draco gave her a bitter smile. "No. I don't even know her."

"Then, let me give you a bit of advice, sonny. Life is short. Remember that. You are young and life is far, far too short. Don't hide from life, _live it._ "

Draco looked at Mrs. Brown, surprised by her fiercely spoken words. But before he could speak, Lucius's cultured voice intruded. 

"Draco, you should give Mrs. Brown an opportunity to speak with the ladies and stop monopolizing her company," he said coolly. 

"Oh, now, Mr. Malfoy, your charming son is merely being polite and listening to my tall tales," Mrs. Brown replied with a laugh that was weakly echoed around the table. 

"Well, be that as it may, Draco would do well to heed the advice of the learned gentlemen at this table, not the women with their gossip and fashion advice. He doesn't have a head for business and he will need all the help he can get."

Draco felt his cheeks burn with shame, and he was uncomfortably aware of Mr. Hays exchanging a smirk with the Cherbourg gentleman. At his side, Mrs. Brown stiffened in outrage, but before she could take Lucius to task for his insult, Draco pushed his chair back from the table and stood up. 

"Excuse me, gentlemen, ladies, I'm going to take a turn on deck. The fresh air will be a welcome change," he said stiffly.

As Lucius glared at him, Draco nodded to the other occupants of the table, paying special attention to Mrs. Brown, who gave him a sympathetic smile. He then swiftly left the dining saloon. Behind him, he heard Astoria's plaintive objection.

"Well, I do hope he isn't planning on being this dreary once we're married. I simply won't have it!"

By the time he reached the door, Draco was quivering with rage.

**********

After a hearty breakfast with Harry in the Third Class dining saloon, Hermione went up on deck and found a seat near the stern, where she could watch the other passengers and write in her journal. The day had turned quite warm, so Hermione had left her coat in her cabin and, instead, draped the beautiful red shawl about her shoulders.

She was thoroughly engrossed in her writing when she heard Harry's voice calling to her. She looked up and caught sight of him, crossing the deck with one of his new cabin mates in tow. 

Hermione frowned pensively; Ron Weasley was a perfectly nice young man and had been nothing but cordial to her since Harry had introduced them at breakfast that morning, but he had made his interest in her as plain as day and Hermione couldn't help but be rather alarmed by the unexpected attention.

As they drew closer, Hermione closed the book and folded her hands atop it. "Hello!" she called out.

Harry swooped down to give her a kiss on the cheek, then joined her on the bench while Ron leaned against one of the anchor winches, pulling out a small tobacco pouch and a pipe.

"So, Mr. Weasley, what are your plans once you reach America?" Hermione asked politely.

Ron finished tamping tobacco into the pipe's bowl, lighting it with a match scratched on the surface of the winch. He took a long puff, then offered it to Harry. 

"Pittsburgh, miss. I have an uncle there who's a foreman in a steel factory. My family can't afford to feed us all anymore – I have six brothers and sisters - so I'm seeking my fortune in America, just like you." He winked at her as Harry passed the pipe back to him.

"Oh, my goodness! How wonderful to grow up with so many siblings!" Hermione said. "I have none, so it's been lovely having Harry so close. He's been practically like a brother to me!"

"And you a sister to me," Harry replied. 

Ron leaned forward, peering curiously at the book on her lap. "What is it you got there, miss?"

Harry groaned. "Don't get her started, mate!" he said with a laugh.

Hermione elbowed him in the side and he clutched his hand there, as if mortally wounded. "Honestly, Harry! It's my journal, Mr. Weasley. My father gave it to me to record everything about my trip."

"Eh, you like to write, then?" Ron asked as he resumed smoking his pipe. "My mum taught me to sign my name, but that's it."

Hermione's mouth popped open and she stared at the redhead. "You can't read?" she exclaimed. A moment later, she clapped her hand over her mouth, mortified that she had commented on what she saw as an unforgivable weakness. "Oh, my heavens, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean... "

But Ron blithely waved away her embarrassment. "No matter, miss. Reading and writing just aren't that important to me. As long as I can use my hands to make my way, I'll do fine."

"But, what if you need to... to... read a contract! Or... a newspaper?"

Ron grinned and gave her an appreciative once-over. "Then I'll just ask you to read it to me, won't I?"

His irrepressible good humor soon had Hermione laughing again, the earlier awkwardness gone. A few minutes later, the ship's whistle sounded and Ron pointed out that the coast of Ireland was coming into view. 

"Queenstown," he said simply. "I imagine _Titanic_ will have to drop anchor offshore, like it did at Cherbourg. Ship's too massive to dock at the pier."

Hermione started to look over her shoulder, to see the approaching coast for herself and the last bit of land she would lay eyes on for the next eight days, but a man who had stepped up to the "A" Deck railing above captured her attention. The bright afternoon sun made his white-blond hair shine like a beacon and, with a start, she realized it was the same man she had seen on the dock at Southampton.

He was not handsome, as such; his features were too sharp, too pale for the standards of the day, but there was something about him... something that made her heart flutter in her chest and her cheeks turn rosy.

"Hermione? You okay, love?" Harry asked, touching her arm. She smiled brightly and nodded, resolving to put the strange man out of her mind. Ron was now sharing a story about his family and he soon had her laughing again.

Without thinking, Hermione looked back up to see if the blond man were still at the railing and was stunned to find him staring right at her, a small smile curving his full lips.

**********

Draco gripped the railing so tightly his knuckles turned white from the strain.

 _How dare he,_ he inwardly raged. _How dare he humiliate me again? Again and again!_

Growing up, Draco's relationship with his father had never been anything more than one of cool courtesy; Lucius was not a man given to displays of casual affection. But since Draco's mother had died, Lucius had grown ever more distant and spiteful towards him. Every attempt Draco had made to reach Lucius had failed; he turned to Severus for advice, but his mentor had only said that Lucius must have loved Narcissa a great deal and his grief had frozen his heart.

It was one thing for Lucius to have treated him poorly – Draco was used to it – but to treat a lady like Mrs. Brown with such callous disregard? Well, it was utterly inexcusable, especially given Lucius Malfoy's tenuous grip on polite society as it was. 

Draco forced himself to take deep, calming breaths. It would not do to be seen showing such vulgar displays of emotion, not where other passengers, people who would delight in spreading gossip, could see him. 

But for his father to take out his spite on Margaret Brown, who, despite her brazen attitude, had been nothing but the very picture of kindness, well, that was beyond the pale as far as Draco was concerned. She might not occupy the level of society Lucius was so desperate to regain, but that was no reason to be _rude_ to her.

Draco pressed his fingertips against his temple in an attempt to ease the beginnings of a headache. Then there was Astoria. Draco laughed bitterly to himself. His fiancée, for all her beauty and breeding, was nothing more than a spoiled brat and Draco was stuck with her until death did them part.

Suddenly, Mrs. Brown's parting comment echoed in his head: _Life is far, far too short. Live it._

 _And how am I to do that, madam,_ Draco thought, _shackled not only to a spoiled little girl, but to my opportunistic father as well?_

Unable to reconcile his dilemma, he closed his eyes and let the salt air cool his face and ease the anger that still thrummed inside him. 

When he opened them again, a flash of color caught his eye and he looked away from the horizon in search of it. A woman was seated on a bench near the port side rails, on the Third Class promenade one deck below, a book open on her lap and a merry smile on her pretty face as she laughed at the antics of her two male companions. In contrast to her simple attire, she wore a bright red shawl tied jauntily around her shoulders, the tasseled ends fluttering in the breeze. 

Lucius would have sneered at the cozy scene, so sure of his superiority to the working class emigrants sharing his passage, but something about this girl held Draco's attention longer than propriety allowed. He leaned against the railing and watched her, unaccountably captivated by her graceful poise, unusual in a woman of her station. 

_There's nothing special about her at all,_ he thought. She was not beautiful, or at least not in the same glamorous way Astoria was beautiful. She had a sweet, fresh-scrubbed look to her, her abundant hair falling loose around her shoulders and held back by a white ribbon. She was pretty, nothing more. 

But Draco couldn't resist the lure of his imagination. Would this woman look as lovely as his affianced, dressed in stylish silks and velvets, with jewels in her brown curls? Would she move as gracefully as a dancer in jeweled slippers, rather than the serviceable leather boots he could see under the hem of her skirt?

How would those plump, pink lips taste after a sip of the finest champagne? 

Draco gave a shake of his head, frustrated by the untoward direction of his thoughts, even though he had a moment of dark humor at the idea of Lucius being forced to entertain a woman of diminished means, despite his own lack of wealth. Still, he continued to watch the woman, his imagination taking him into more indecent territory.

The two men with her were sharing a pipe and telling tales to impress each other, and the woman, her interest in them waning, returned to her book, but not before glancing up and meeting Draco's eyes.

She immediately blushed; Draco could see her cheeks flush pink even from his vantage point. She glanced away, her lips parting as she took what looked to be a steadying breath and pressing one hand to her chest. Then with a singular lack of artifice, she looked boldly up at him. The expression on her face could only be called challenging.

Draco grinned. So. This was no ignorant country lass, although the book on her lap was a sure clue to the bright intelligence he could now see in her eyes. There was no artfulness in her bold stare, no cunning flirtation more suited to women like Astoria. She looked at him as if looking at an equal, and damn him if he wasn't certain that she was not only an equal, but his superior. Strangely, the thought cheered him.

He touched the tips of his fingers to his brow, giving her a nod of his head in acknowledgement, which only seemed to deepen her blush. She looked down at her book, one hand coming up to pat self-consciously at the unruly curls being tossed in the breeze. She kept her eyes firmly on the page in front of her, although Draco had the strong suspicion that she was still very much aware of him.

"There you are, Draco, I've been looking all over for you!"

Draco stiffened at the sound of Astoria's voice, but he schooled his features into a mask of bland pleasantness as he turned to her. 

"Astoria, darling." He took the hand she offered and kissed the back of her gloved fingers. "I was just admiring the... the view." He cast a surreptitious glance at the unknown woman, but her gaze was still firmly fixed on her lap.

"View? It's miles and miles of water, Draco. There is no view. I shouldn't think I'd like to live near the water," Astoria said with an expression of utmost boredom. "Papa said that there are lovely mansions on Park Avenue. I think I would like to live there."

"Astoria, I will just be a junior associate at Haversham and Finley. I'm not sure that we'll have the means to live in such grand style-"

Astoria interrupted him with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Oh, Papa will buy us whatever I want. If I want to live on Park Avenue, I shall."

The same sick feeling that Draco had felt earlier roared back with a vengeance. It was not enough that Lucius had all but sold Draco to the highest bidder, but to then be further unmanned by his spoiled fiancée was almost more than Draco could take. 

He bit his lip, knowing that to snap at her as he dearly wished to do would only send her crying to her mother and that woman barely tolerated him as it was. 

"We'll see, Astoria. I don't think I want to be even further in debt to your father this early in our marriage," he finally said, but Astoria laughed.

"Oh, Draco, don't be absurd. You'll never be out of debt to my father. He's giving you his youngest daughter, when I certainly deserve a husband of a higher social standing than you currently enjoy." 

She tucked her hand into his elbow and patted his cheek. "Don't look so cross. You know it's true. Now, come, Papa and Mr. Malfoy wish to introduce you to Mr. Straus. He owns some kind of shop in New York and is apparently quite wealthy. He's promised to introduce us to an estate agent who can show us properties in the best neighborhoods."

Draco felt like vomiting and it was only by the greatest force of his will that he could set his features into a bland mask. Before Astoria, still chattering about Park Avenue mansions and department stores, could lead him away, Draco looked over his shoulder at the woman who had so captured his imagination.

She was watching him with a curious expression, but before he could decipher it, Astoria had pulled him away.

**********

_Titanic_ dropped anchor off the coast of Ireland at 11:30 a.m. and was soon joined by two small tenders, which began the task of ferrying passengers onto the great ship, along with many large canvas bags of mail bound for America.

Hermione watched for a while, earnestly recording everything she observed in her journal, but when the bugle sounded for afternoon tea, she put her book and pen away, and went below decks.

She found Harry and Ron in the Third Class smoking room, playing cards. When she could not tempt either man into having tea with her, she went off in search of other entertainment, which she found in the form of the ship's library. 

Unable to believe her good fortune, Hermione paused before entering the room. Despite being more liberal than most ships of the day, _Titanic_ still observed a strict separation of the classes, and with her Third Class ticket, Hermione was fairly certain that this lovely, serene room was not meant for the likes of the steerage passengers.

However, it was empty but for an older gentleman dressed in unrelieved black, his sallow skin made even more so by the late afternoon sunlight shining through the windows. He glanced up at her when she entered, his black eyes lingering on her for only a moment before he returned to his book.

Hermione walked over to one of the large, glass-fronted bookcases. Most of the volumes there were popular novels of the day and ones she had already read, unfortunately. But just as she was about to give up, she was delighted to find the newest novel by Frances Hodgson Burnett, _The Secret Garden._

Congratulating herself on her luck, she took the book over to a chair near a window and settled down to read.

**********

11 April 1912  
At Sea

 

Dinner started smoothly enough.

Draco was seated at a large oval table near the center of the First Class dining saloon, along with Lucius and Severus; Astoria and her parents; Margaret Brown; Mr. Kent and the Hayses; and another older couple by the name of Straus, who, as Astoria had so gleefully informed him, owned an upscale department store in Manhattan called R.H. Macy & Co.

Everyone present was dressed in their finest; the women wore silks and furs, and enough glittering gems to fill the jewelry department of Mr. Straus's store, and the men in their stiffest starched collars and white bow ties. The air was filled with the sound of champagne corks popping and the tinkle of crystal as the rich congratulated each other on their good fortune.

In his current mood, it was enough to make Draco sick.

He thanked the waiter who refilled his champagne flute, and as he drained it, he idly wondered if perhaps he should slow down. It was his third glass and he was well on his way to becoming thoroughly pissed. 

The diners were on their fourth course but Draco's appetite had long since fled, as the conversation had grown increasingly haughty, Lucius leading the way with his self-righteous superiority dominating the discussion. 

Astoria was regaling the ladies with the details of their upcoming nuptials, and, if his math were correct, the price tag was already well into the five figures.

Draco looked up from his untouched fish and met Mrs. Brown's sympathetic gaze. She rolled her eyes at Lucius and gave Draco a smile, but try as he might, he could not find one to give her in return. 

Picking up his fork, he cut into the tender fish, but his stomach protested, so he pushed the plate aside. Instantly, a waiter was at his side to take the plate away, and another to offer more champagne, which Draco eagerly accepted. 

"Draco, you've had enough." Lucius gestured for the waiter. "No more champagne for my son; he has a weak stomach for wine. I don't want him getting sick before the main course arrives."

Before Draco could take hold of the crystal flute, the waiter had swept it up. Draco pressed his lips tightly together as his father's offensive treatment provoked the always-festering rage within. 

"Father, my apologies, but I don't think-" he said stiffly, but Astoria chose that moment to speak up.

"Well, I simply will not tolerate overindulgence once we are wed. It sets a bad example for children, and I should think..."

Draco let his fiancée's voice fade into the muted cacophony of crystal and china, silver and conceit. The waiter placed the fifth course in front of him – a rosewater sorbet to cleanse the palate – but Draco let it melt in its delicate glass dish.

**********

The moon was the thinnest of slivers just beginning to appear above the horizon, leaving as the only light in the sky the glittering constellations arcing overhead. It was quiet here at the stern of the ship, the distant sounds of laughter and music not enough to break the peaceful stillness that had come over the great vessel at nearly midnight.

After a light supper, Hermione had taken what she had meant to be a short nap, but she must have been more tired than she had previously thought, for she had woken up at a quarter past eleven. Her three roommates – an Italian woman and her two young daughters – had been sound asleep, so Hermione had quietly dressed and left the cabin.

Again, she found Harry and Ron in the smoking room, deeply engrossed in yet another card game. After fixing herself a cup of tea, she watched them play for a bit, but quickly grew bored and decided to take a walk outside.

It was cold, and she was glad that she had chosen to wear her coat and the gloves Grandmother had knitted for her before Hermione's voyage. Avoiding the First Class public areas, Hermione strolled back to the stern and leaned for some time against the railing, watching the churning wake caused by _Titanic's_ triple bronze propellers.

There were several rows of teak benches nearby. Choosing one that gave her an unimpeded view, Hermione sat down and drew out her journal. She wrote of her exploration of the ship and of the many people she had met, and of the blond man who had smiled so flirtatiously at her just that afternoon. 

She sighed wistfully; her thoughts had been filled with him all day, until even Harry had teased her for her girlish daydreams. But, there had been something about the man, a sense of deep mystery about him that had tweaked her curiosity, so she had written several pages about him, giving him a fanciful history that pleased her romantic heart. 

She wondered, also, about the beautiful woman with him. She was clearly his wife or affianced, judging by her intimate behavior towards him. They both appeared to be very well to do, if their dress and mannerisms were anything to go by. They were amongst the privileged set and Hermione could not help but nurture a seed of jealousy in her breast for the dark-haired woman to be betrothed to such a man.

Closing the journal at last, Hermione pulled the collar of her coat up around her neck and lay back on the bench. Her father had taught her the constellations at a young age and she easily picked them out now – Cygnus; Aquila and its bright star, Altair; Ursa Minor; and her favorite, the constellation Draco. 

As she watched the stars pass overhead, she heard footsteps quickly approaching.

Sitting up, Hermione was startled to see a man in formal wear stride by, his head ducked low and his fists clenched at his sides. Swinging her legs off the bench, she watched him curiously as he rushed right up to the railing, leaning so far over it that Hermione caught her breath in shock, afraid that his momentum would carry him overboard.

But as she watched, one gloved hand pressed over her mouth, he straightened, and the ship's lights gleamed off his white-blond hair. Hermione's heart began to pound as the man she had been thinking about all day stepped up onto the railing, swinging first one leg, then the other, over it. 

She could see the white-knuckled grip he had on the iron rail, but when she looked up into his face, she was startled to see a kind of resigned desperation there. 

Before she could even form another thought, she was on her feet, her journal falling to the deck with a thud. 

"Stop!"

**********


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

12 April 1912  
At Sea

 

Draco's headlong flight from the dining saloon had been stopped only by the aft railing; had it not been there, he might have plunged off the back of the ship, his arms spread wide to welcome the killing grip of the icy North Atlantic waters.

As it was, he doubled over it with enough force to drive the air from his lungs, and he stood there for several long minutes, staring down at the pale froth whipped up in _Titanic's_ wake. 

The conversation at dinner had grown progressively worse. Between Astoria's materialism and his father's snide insults, Draco had felt bombarded from all sides by an arrogance that he found increasingly reprehensible. It was not who he was, or whom he wanted to be, and every day seemed to pull him deeper and deeper into a meaningless, narcissistic abyss.

He felt utterly powerless to stop the momentum pushing him into a life he did not want. 

Closing his eyes, Draco breathed deeply of the cold sea air. Before he could change his mind, he stepped up on the bottom bar of the railing. Another step, and another, then he swung his leg over, holding tightly to the rail. When he was on the other side, he straightened and leaned away from the ship, each breath filling his lungs with growing resolve. He could do it. He could do it, and it would only take a second. 

Just a second.

"Stop!"

The unexpected voice startled Draco and his right foot nearly slipped. He tightened his grip and readjusted his feet on the rail. He stared in uncomprehending shock at the woman running towards him, her pretty face crumpled in panic.

Through the haze of his anger and inebriation, Draco recognized her as the young woman he had seen on deck earlier that day. 

"What are you doing?" she cried as she came to an abrupt stop several feet away, as if suddenly realizing that she might scare him into taking that final plunge if she came too close. 

"Come down from there right this minute!" she cried out.

Draco gaped at her, shocked to his toes by her bossy command, given with the kind of brash authority rarely seen in a woman. 

"I beg your pardon?" he said stiffly, the irony of their predicament not lost on him. "What right do you have to order me to do anything?" 

The woman looked unimpressed by his imperious query. "Well?" she said. "Are you coming back over?"

Draco put on his best sneer. "Why are you bothering me? I'm busy, can't you see?" he snapped at her. In the next second, he could have bitten his tongue when he saw the shadow of hurt in her eyes. 

It didn't drive her away, however. She marched over to the railing and took hold of his sleeve in her common, knit-gloved hand. "Come down from there this instant! You're going to fall!"

"Miss! What do you think you're doing?" 

She was so close that he could see the smattering of freckles on her nose, and the hurt in her eyes had been replaced by annoyance, as if his dilemma were nothing but the reckless antics of a spoiled child. 

"I'm saving you, of course."

Her words, so simple and so earnest, made his eyes prickle, but he blinked hard and told himself it was only the cold air making them water. 

"I see. And what makes you think I need saving, miss?"

"Granger."

"What?"

"Miss Granger. Miss Hermione Granger, as a matter of fact." She held out her hand for him to shake, then thought better of it and latched onto his other arm instead. "I can't imagine that you actually mean to jump into the water."

She was maddening! Draco lifted his chin arrogantly. "That, Miss Granger, is none of your business."

"Of course it is! You certainly don't think I'm going to just let you go over without a fight!"

"You are an infuriating woman!"

"So I've been told!"

Draco was starting to feel foolish and any real desire to end his life had been replaced by a growing exhilaration brought on by their bickering. The woman, who was far prettier than he'd thought earlier, was smiling now, her dark eyes sparkling with the same sort of giddy anticipation he was feeling. 

"Well, then, you must not be a very quick learner, if you can't tell when someone just wants to be done with it!"

She laughed, a surprisingly sweet and husky sound that Draco found quite appealing. "If you were so serious about taking your own life, sir, you would have already let go. And you haven't told me _your_ name yet."

After a pause, he answered. "Draco. Draco Malfoy."

Her eyes widened and she glanced up at the dark sky overhead. "Draco," she whispered to herself. "How extraordinary."

"How is my name extraordinary?" he asked, puzzled by her curious words.

"If you would come back over, I'll tell you. It's freezing out here and I could use a nice cup of tea." She stepped closer, until she had to tilt her head back to look up at him. "Please, Mr. Malfoy."

How could he ignore such a sweet request? Draco stepped back up onto the railing. Hermione's hands were a welcome brace as he started to swing his leg over. Then, his sweat-slicked hands slipped on the rail and he lurched to the side, pulled out of her grip.

Draco felt as if he were free falling and, for a moment, he regretted that he would not have the chance to know the pretty girl helping him. She was screaming now, shrill screams for help that only made him panic more.

He fell upside down, caught only by his left leg, which hooked over the rail. Blood rushed to his head and as his vision grayed at the edges, he was certain he was going to black out. If he lost consciousness, he would surely fall to his death in the water far below, and suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to live, just as Mrs. Brown had urged him. 

He could feel Hermione's hands grasping his coat, dragging him upright with a strength that dimly surprised him. 

"Hang on! Oh my God, help! Help! Hang on, please!"

At the sound of her frantic cries, Draco was suffused with a surge of adrenaline; he flung one arm up, reaching out desperately for her.

Then Hermione's hand was in his, her knitted glove giving his sweaty fingers something to grasp. He looked up at her, knowing that his face revealed his terror, but what he found in hers, despite the alarm in her voice, was a gentle calm.

"Hold on to me. I won't let you fall," she whispered.

And, somehow, Draco knew that she spoke the truth.

**********

"Is this how it happened, Mr. Malfoy? The young lady was not attempting to rob you?" asked the Master-at-Arms.

Draco was sitting on the bench where Hermione had been lying earlier, wrapped snugly in a blanket and surrounded by Lucius, Severus Snape, Wallace Greengrass, and Mr. Straus. Behind the Master-at-Arms stood Hermione, each of her arms held loosely by two crewmen. Her face was impassive.

"No, she was not," Draco said. He nodded his head towards the crewmen. "Look, is that necessary? How dare they manhandle a lady?"

Lucius snorted indelicately. "Let us not exaggerate, Draco. Miss... Granger, is it? Yes, Miss Granger may be female, but I would hesitate to call her a lady."

"Father, please, don't be rude."

"I say, Lucius, that is a bit harsh. Especially given that the young woman has rescued your son," Wallace said. He turned to Hermione and gave her a smile that she did not return.

Lucius did not answer, but he continued to stare coldly at Hermione. "Draco, perhaps you would like to tell us again exactly what happened?"

Draco sighed. "It happened as I told you, Father. Despite your futile attempt to cut me off, I did have too much to drink, and I thought it would be amusing to climb up on the railing. I slipped. Miss Granger was nearby and she caught me."

"Indeed. I have two questions, then. First, why is Miss Granger outside at this time of night when she should be in her bunk in steerage?" 

Hermione's eyes narrowed, but that was her only reaction to his sneering words.

"Second, Miss Granger is undoubtedly female and quite a small one at that. Draco, do you expect me to believe that a woman who couldn't possibly weigh nine stone caught you as you were falling and pulled you over the railing? Really?"

"Eight stone five, Mr. Malfoy, and I'm stronger than I look."

Lucius turned back to look at Hermione, and she smiled at him. Draco grinned, tempted to laugh aloud at her audacity.

He clearly was not the only one who appreciated her cheeky response. Mr. Straus and Wallace Greengrass exchanged amused looks.

"Is that so, Miss Granger?" Lucius asked frigidly.

"It is. Have you ever milked a cow, Mr. Malfoy?" She paused, studying him with such sincerity that Draco nearly burst out laughing. "No, I don't suppose you have. My grandmother has cows and she taught me how to milk them. It builds considerable strength in your arms." 

Lucius just stared at her, dumbfounded. 

The Master-at-Arms seemed unconvinced, but as Draco was sticking firmly to his story, there wasn't much reason to hold Hermione on charges. He nodded at the crewmen and they let her go. She rubbed her arms and glanced over at Draco, who smiled gratefully at her.

"Well, gentlemen, miss, if there is nothing else, I’ll bid you good night." The Master-at-Arms left, his crewmen on his heels.

"Come, Draco. You need to sleep off your stupidity," Lucius said sharply.

He took Draco by the arm and hauled him up off the bench, but he pulled free of his father's grip.

"I can walk on my own, Father."

Mr. Straus cleared his voice. "Certainly Miss Granger's bravery is worth something?" he said, looking faintly scandalized by Lucius's appalling manners.

Lucius stopped dead, swiveling to face Hermione. He looked over at Severus, who had not taken his eyes off Draco once since they had arrived upon the scene.

"Give the girl a twenty, Snape. That should be sufficient."

Draco laughed bitterly. "Is that the worth of your only child's life?"

"After tonight's antics, you think you're worth more?"

"Lucius, not now," Wallace said, wincing. He turned to Hermione, who was so shocked by Lucius's hateful words that she could only stare at him, agape. 

"Miss Granger, perhaps you would like to join us for supper tomorrow... well, I suppose it's tonight, seeing as it is quite late," Wallace offered.

Hermione and Draco exchanged a look and he gave her a tiny nod. She smiled at Wallace. "I would be delighted, sir. Until tonight, then."

With a last pensive look at Draco, she picked up her journal from the deck and walked away.

Draco watched her go, the events of the evening fading in the lingering sunlight of her smile.

**********

12 April 1912  
At Sea

 

They were strolling along the Boat Deck, maintaining a proper distance from each other to avoid drawing the attention of the eagle-eyed matrons who might be tempted to carry tales back to Draco's family. Eyebrows had already been raised at Hermione's plain dress – a navy wool skirt and white blouse – although Draco was sure that she had not noticed their scorn. She held herself with self-confidence and a surprising lack of vanity that he found both surprising and alluring. 

Unaware of Draco's flattering consideration, Hermione walked over to the railing and gripped it with both hands, tipping her face up to the sun. 

Draco joined her, leaning against the rail so that he was facing her. He looked out to sea to avoid becoming tongue-tied by her presence. Up close and in the bright daylight, she was even lovelier than he had realized last night. 

"I wish to thank you for your assistance last night, Miss Granger," Draco said at last.

"I'm so glad that I was there to help," Hermione replied, reaching out to briefly touch his sleeve. "Although I can't imagine what would bring you to the brink of such despair. Surely your life isn't so distressing that suicide is the only answer."

Draco gave her a sharp look, startled by her blunt words, but he found her gazing back at him with such a look of kindness that the brief flare of anger dissipated instantly. 

"I'm sure to one such as yourself, the plight of people of my station seems trivial," he said with a forced lightness. "It was nothing, really. Nothing at all."

"Mr. Malfoy, your problems are no more or less important than mine!" Hermione exclaimed. With a wave of her hand, she drew his attention to an elderly couple walking past. "Or theirs! Or that woman over there!"

"You wouldn't understand-" he started to say. 

"You are a privileged gentleman. You are impeccably dressed, you speak as an educated man, and your manners are flawless." With a flick of her fingers, she tweaked his lapel and the white rose boutonnière there. "To be honest, it seems to me that you are a young man with the world at his feet. Not someone who should be thinking about suicide."

Draco was taken aback by Hermione's candid words. No one, aside from Severus and his mother, had ever dared to speak to him with such frankness.   
"How... how _dare_ you?" he exclaimed, not caring that his voice carried and drew disapproving attention from the passengers walking past. 

Hermione laughed, but it was not unkind. 

"Mr. Malfoy, I'm not the one who tried to throw myself off the back of a moving ship. How dare _you?_ "

They stared at each other, Draco with simmering anger and not a little bit of hurt, Hermione with a challenging smirk. Her expression softened first and she dropped her hand back to his sleeve. "Mr. Malfoy, please don't think I'm being callous. Surely you understand that life is short and is more precious for it."

It took every ounce of Draco's self-control to keep his astonishment concealed. Hermione's words were an uncanny echo of Mrs. Brown's words from the day before. 

"I... I don't know what you mean... " he stammered.

Hermione's hand tightened on his forearm, her face shining earnestly up at him. "There are people on this ship who have given up everything they had to make this journey. They've left behind family and friends, and their homeland, to take a chance on America. To build a new life for their children in a land of vast opportunity." She gave him an appraising look, and it made Draco feel naked and callow.

"They have far more to lose than you, Mr. Malfoy. Don't you think it's selfish of you to take your own life and leave behind the people who love you?"

The absurdity of her words broke something inside him. Draco laughed. "Oh yes, can't forget them, can we?" 

Hermione's smile faded in the face of his sarcasm; she stared at him, shocked. 

"All of those people who love me! Let's see if we can't count them on our fingers, shall we, Miss Granger?" He grasped her wrist and held her hand out, her fingers splayed wide. 

"There's my father, I'm sure you remember him. He's the pompous arse who thinks I'm a waste of flesh and good only to further his own destructive ambition. Then, there's my mother... oh, she's dead now." He folded down two of her fingers, giving them a squeeze. 

"But, the woman I've seen you with-" Hermione started to say, but Draco put his finger to her lips, silencing her instantly.

"Yes, let's not forget Astoria. My fiancée. Never will you meet a more spoiled princess than Miss Astoria Greengrass. I promise you, there is no love lost there."

"You're hurting me."

Draco looked down; his fingers were still tightly encircling Hermione's wrist. He let go of her abruptly, ashamed to see the reddened marks he had left there. 

"Miss Granger. Oh, God... please, accept my deepest apologies. I don't know what has got into me," Draco whispered, his face stricken.

Hermione watched Draco closely, her heart breaking at the thinly veiled unhappiness she saw reflected in his eyes. 

"Surely, if she's marrying you, she must love you," she said in a quiet voice.

"Our marriage has been arranged by our fathers. It was purely a business decision. My father needs money, her father has it." He smiled faintly. "Does that shock you?"

Hermione sighed, then shook her head slowly. "I wish I could say that it does. I wish I could say that our society has moved past such destructive nonsense, but if what you say is true-"

"Believe me, it is true. It is, Miss Granger."

He could not bear the look of compassion on her face and, in an attempt to break the tension between them, he focused on the leather journal tucked in the pocket of her skirt. Before she could stop him, Draco had snatched it away and opened it.

"What is this? Your diary?" 

"Give that back!" Hermione made a grab for it, but Draco turned so that she only got a handful of his coat. He laughed as she made the sort of indelicate comment that would have made Astoria blush.

"Ah, ah, ah, Miss Granger! Such language from a lady!" He thumbed through the pages, all filled with her neat, precise handwriting. "So, it _is_ your diary."

Hermione glared at him, then stomped over to a deck chaise and sat down. "It's my travel journal, Mr. Malfoy. I'm afraid you won't find the kind of heartsick, girlish drivel you're looking for," she said coolly.

He slanted an amused smile at her. "How do you know what I'm looking for? I might be needing advice for my next transatlan... hey, this is quite good."

Hermione sat up a bit straighter as he joined her on the chaise. She peeked over his arm to see which passage he was reading. "Oh, that. I like to watch people, you see. They're ever so interesting!"

"You're very observant. You see details that most people would miss. Like the fading bruises on this woman's cheek, and her mismatched earrings. She's been mistreated. Do you know her?" Draco continued to skim through the book, surprised by Hermione's honest, visceral writing style. It made him feel voyeuristic, as if he were spying on the people within the pages. He continued to read, unabashedly curious to see if she'd written about _him._

"She's in Third Class, too, a couple of cabins down from mine. I haven't been introduced and she keeps to herself. I think she must be running away from someone, don't you?"

"Miss Granger, you can't call this a travel journal, not really. It's the makings of a novel, with the _Titanic_ as a backdrop."

Hermione smiled, pleased with Draco's instinctive understanding. "You like it, then? See, this is why I want to move to America. I want to be a writer."

He nodded solemnly. "It's brilliant." He turned to look at her, his earlier anger long since vanished. "You have an undeniable talent, Miss Granger. I have no doubt in my mind that you will be a very successful author."

Not could be, but _will be_. Hermione glowed with pleasure at his compliment and Draco couldn't help but stare at her, smitten by her sweet smile. 

Hermione took the journal back and closed it, retying the leather strings and slipping it back into her pocket. 

"I'll send you an autographed copy of my first novel, Mr. Malfoy," she said, with a grin.

"Please do. It will be my most prized possession." 

Daringly, Draco reached for her hand, but pulled back when a shadow fell over them.

"Well, well. Draco. And, Miss Granger, isn't it?" said Lucius Malfoy. 

Draco's good humor vanished, but Hermione looked up Lucius with a polite smile. "Good afternoon, Mr. Malfoy," she replied.

Lucius was joined by Wallace Greengrass and his wife and daughter, both of whom were looking at Hermione with the same kind of bored disregard they would have given anyone beneath their station; the Cherbourg gentleman, whom Draco had finally learned was called Edward Kent; Mrs. Brown; and Severus Snape. 

It was Snape's dark glare that sent a cold shiver down Draco's spine, not because it was aimed at him, but rather at Hermione Granger. He could not imagine a reason for Severus to find offense with Miss Granger. 

For her part, Hermione was paying him no attention; her full consideration was on Lucius. She stood and offered her hand. After a long moment during which Draco was certain his father would ignore her respectful gesture, Lucius took her hand and gave it a single shake.

"Miss Granger was of some assistance to my son last night," Lucius continued, speaking to his companions but clearly ignoring Hermione from that point on. "He thought it would be amusing to walk on the railing, like some kind of circus performer. He slipped and, as it happened, Miss Granger was there to catch him."

Astoria gave an audible gasp and Draco closed his eyes, the wave of humiliation sweeping through him almost unbearable.

Severus sneered. "Yes, it would appear that Miss Granger was in the right place at the right time. The entertainment in steerage must have been dull by comparison."

Pushing past the austere Snape, Astoria took Draco's arm in hers. "Why wasn't I informed of this last night? No one said a word to me about it!"

"Darling, you had already retired for the evening. I saw no reason to wake you, since Draco was perfectly fine," Veronica said, although the look she gave Draco was more one of disappointment that he had survived his bad decision.

"Well, that simply won't do! Papa-"

"Astoria, please-" Wallace interrupted, giving her a quelling look. 

Lucius was still watching Hermione with a shrewd, unkind expression, and Draco was impressed with her complete lack of consternation. It appeared that she really was as fearless as she seemed.

"Will you be joining us for supper tonight?" Lucius queried, sounding as if he hoped that she would decline. For the first time, Astoria looked fully at Hermione, her eyes narrowing in speculation. 

Hermione noted the subtle displeasure in the man's voice, but she nodded. "I will need to check with my traveling companion, but yes, I plan to attend. Thank you for your kind invitation last night, Mr. Greengrass," she said, turning to smile at Wallace, who returned it with a nod of his head.

Mr. Kent, silent until now, gave Hermione a short bow. "It is delightful to make your acquaintance, Miss Granger. I must say, I've never known anyone who's traveled steerage before. I think I should like to hear your stories of life below decks!"

"For God's sake, Edward! Do you want her to bring a rat or two with her when she comes?" Mrs. Brown said in her sharp, blunt voice. Veronica moaned a bit at mention of rats, while Astoria peered up at Draco. 

"She's not serious? There are rats on this boat?" she hissed.

Draco rolled his eyes and the only thing that kept him from snapping was the quirk of Hermione's lips – she was holding back laughter. "No, darling. There are no rats on _Titanic._ "

Astoria seemed unconvinced, but she continued to stare balefully at Hermione as if expecting her to pull one of the wriggling vermin out of her pocket by the tail.

The bugle call for afternoon tea echoed over the deck and broke the tension building between the two parties. Lucius gave Hermione a stiff nod, as did Severus, while Mr. Kent and Mr. Greengrass expressed their interest in meeting her again for supper. Astoria and Veronica pulled Draco away, not giving him the chance to do much more than give Hermione an apologetic smile.

Hermione was left alone with Margaret Brown, who smiled ruefully at her. 

"Charming, aren't they?" she said, with a nod towards the departing group.

Hermione looked away, her thoughts still full of Draco. "Anyone who says we live in the age of equality lies."

Mrs. Brown laughed. "I like you. You have fire in your breast and that's a rare thing to find in girls your age. So, you plan to go through with this? It may not be the most pleasant experience you'll ever have."

Hermione leaned back against the railing and smiled at the older woman. "Well, the entertainment in steerage _has_ been pretty dull."

"Somehow, I doubt that. I think I'd have more fun down there." Mrs. Brown looked Hermione up and down, her expression turning thoughtful. "What are you planning to wear tonight?"

Hermione looked down at her wool skirt. "I'm not really sure," she admitted.

"Come with me, then. We'll have tea sent up to my stateroom." Mrs. Brown held out her gloved hand. "Come on! I have an idea!"

Putting her trust in this kindly woman, Hermione took her hand.

**********

"Well. I think you could call me your fairy godmother," Mrs. Brown said softly, standing back after doing up the last few buttons on Hermione's dress. 

"I think that only works if I'm looking for Prince Charming," Hermione said with a thoughtful smile as she looked at herself in the tall cheval mirror, turning this way and that. "I've never worn anything so beautiful."

The gown was a soft rose pink satin, with an overlay of crystal beaded champagne lace, the slim skirt draped with a short train of the same beaded lace. It had short lace sleeves and a square neckline that accentuated her cleavage, made even more impressive by her tightly laced corset. 

The finishing touch was a wide satin sash with a bow that rested along the curve of her left breast. Ivory opera-length gloves and beaded gold shoes completed the ensemble. Hermione stared at her reflection, shocked into silence.

"Thank you, Mrs. Brown. It's very kind of you to share your daughter's new gown," Hermione said at last, as she fingered the delicate beading. "Are you sure she won't mind?" 

"She has a hundred dresses, my dear. She's attending the Sorbonne, in Paris, and chose to stay behind for the last of the spring parties. I'm only bringing home part of her vast wardrobe," Mrs. Brown said. "Would you like a touch of rouge? Although I don't think you need it... you have a beautiful complexion."

"I don't know... these freckles are rather ugly, don't you think?" Hermione stepped closer to the mirror, examining the dusting of freckles that had never bothered her before now. She wondered what Draco thought of freckles; his fiancée had the kind of pale, flawless skin that the fashion magazines celebrated. 

"Nonsense. They're fresh and unpretentious."

Hermione took a deep breath. "I suppose I'm ready."

Mrs. Brown laughed and took Hermione's hand. "Then, let's go to the party, my girl! Maybe you'll find that Prince Charming yet!"

**********

Draco stood with his father and Wallace Greengrass at the foot of the Grand Staircase. The reception room was as lavishly decorated as the dining saloon; smartly dressed waiters made their way through the gathering passengers with silver trays of _aperitifs_ and _hors d'oeuvres_ , and the ship's orchestra was playing a lively tune.

Astoria was seated several feet away, Veronica standing behind her. Both ladies were chatting politely with Mrs. Straus and Mrs. Hays, but Astoria was staring hard at Draco, the cordial smile on her face belying the cold disappointment in her eyes. 

After meeting Hermione on deck, Astoria had questioned Draco at length about her, unwilling to accept that he had only just made her acquaintance on deck the night before. He saw no reason to mention that he had noticed her earlier that day and had been able to think of nothing else. 

When he refused to admit any wrongdoing, Astoria had stormed off in a fury, announcing imperiously that he could just dine by himself, thank you very much.

Of course, she hadn't had any real choice in the matter. Veronica had put her foot down and Astoria had been bound to obey her. But, she hadn't spoken to Draco since their disagreement and he found that he really didn't care. 

"Well, well, I guess you _can_ take the girl out of the country-" Lucius said, his drawling voice carrying a note of surprise. 

Roused by his father's incredulous words, Draco turned to look at him, then followed his gaze to the two women walking arm in arm down the staircase. His mouth fell open. 

Hermione Granger was a vision of absolute perfection.

Draco immediately stepped forward, reaching out to take her gloved hand and assist her down the last couple of steps. 

"Good evening, Mr. Malfoy," Hermione said, blushing at his gracious manners.

"Miss Granger. You look positively enchanting." He raised her hand and bestowed a kiss to her fingers. "You are without a doubt the most beautiful woman on _Titanic_."

Hermione shook her head, amused at his extravagant words. "You're in a fine mood tonight, sir. Much better than last night, if I may say so," she replied, her voice dropping to a whisper.

"How're you doing, Draco?" Mrs. Brown asked. She smiled knowingly when Draco did not answer but continued to stare at Hermione, entranced.

"Sonny, you'd better put your eyes back in your head before Miss Greengrass takes a notion to come over here and do it herself."

Draco glanced over at Astoria and Veronica, both of whom were staring stonily at him. 

"Indeed. May I escort both of you lovely ladies to supper, then?" He tucked Hermione's hand in the crook of his arm and held out his other to Mrs. Brown.

**********

While Hermione had not grown up with the same privilege Draco Malfoy had, she was no stranger to polite society. Her father, a professor of classical studies at Oxford, had many acquaintances, so the Grangers were frequent guests for dinner parties and summer garden picnics. She knew, from the sidelong looks she was receiving from Draco's father and fiancée, that they must have been expecting her to eat with her hands and wipe her mouth with her sleeve. She couldn't deny that it gave her a bit of a thrill to know that she had them so unsettled. 

The first four courses passed with little conflict. The gentlemen at the table carried the majority of the conversation, discussing a variety of political and economic topics on which Hermione would have loved to share an opinion. But something told her that the opinion of any woman, regardless of class, would not be welcome in this group.

Draco was seated next to Astoria, but his attention was fully on Hermione and Mrs. Brown, who kept them both thoroughly amused by her bawdy stories. Hermione was enjoying herself immensely, but Astoria soon brought down the tone of the evening.

"Miss Granger, are you traveling alone?" she asked, before taking a dainty bite of her chicken.

"I'm traveling with my cousin, Harry Potter. My parents didn't want me to move to America by myself, so they arranged for Harry to accompany me." 

Mrs. Brown nodded sagely. "A very wise decision by your parents. It's so much nicer to travel with friends, isn't it?"

Hermione nodded as she took a sip of wine. "Harry was very excited for the opportunity. He has no family of his own and has a bit of an adventurous soul."

Astoria's smile was coolly condescending. "It must be a relief for your parents not to have another mouth to feed, then."

"Astoria! For Christ's sake..." Draco hissed, shooting Hermione an apologetic look.

"I'm an only child, Miss Greengrass, and my father is well placed at Oxford. He can actually afford to put a roast on our table every Sunday," Hermione answered mildly, refusing to rise to Astoria's bait.

Lucius was now listening to the conversation, his eyes narrowing shrewdly. "Then how is it that you are traveling Third Class, Miss Granger? If your father is so well placed, surely he could have afforded to send you Second Class?"

"Father, please, that isn't an appropriate-"

"You'll not lecture me on what is and is not appropriate, Draco."

"It was my decision to travel Third Class, Mr. Malfoy," Hermione smoothly interjected. "After reading in _The Times_ how well-outfitted this ship is for all passengers, including those who must travel Third Class, either by choice or circumstance, I saw no reason to travel in luxury when so many cannot."

Astoria tittered. "How socially aware you are, Miss Granger! I imagine you'll join the suffragette movement next!"

Hermione nodded. "I've eagerly followed both the British and the American _suffragist_ movements, specifically the activities of Mrs. Pankhurst and her daughters. Their defense of the Conciliation Bill in 1910 was particularly inspiring and..." 

Hermione trailed off when Astoria started to laugh. 

"Honestly, would you listen to yourself? Miss Granger, you should be careful or you'll never find a husband! Men aren't interested in women who would rather protest in Parliament Square than honor them as a wife should honor her husband."

Lucius lifted his wineglass. "Hear, hear."

Mrs. Brown shrugged. "I disagree, Astoria. I think Miss Granger has a fine head on her shoulders. Any man should be proud if she gave him a second look, rather than the other way around." She raised her wineglass to toast Hermione, and Draco followed suit. 

"Here's to intelligent women," he said, smiling at Hermione.

"What are your plans once you reach America, then?" Lucius asked. 

Hermione brightened. "I am a writer."

This brought surprised titters from everyone at the table except Draco and Mrs. Brown, who gave her a perceptive look. Hermione flushed, but she held Lucius's antagonistic sneer. 

"A writer?" he finally said scornfully. "I see. Have you been published?"

"Not yet," Hermione answered with such conviction that Lucius's smile faded abruptly. She took a bite of her chicken, then glanced over at Draco. He was watching her with a look that brought the color back to her cheeks.

"I think that's brilliant," Draco said. "A much better use of your intelligence than tatting or watercolors."

"I paint watercolors, too," Hermione said teasingly and Draco laughed aloud. "I'm accomplished in many things, Mr. Malfoy."

"Then, I am speechless in the face of your accomplishment, Miss Granger," he said. His smile turned melancholy. "You astound me."

"I'm nothing special, sir," she replied, as she lifted her champagne flute to her lips. "I just know what I want out of life."

**********

The clock was just chiming ten when Mr. Straus stood up from the table and invited the gentlemen to the smoking lounge for an after-dinner port.

"Certainly don't want to bore the ladies with our dull conversation," he said heartily. He nodded politely to Hermione. "A pleasure, Miss Granger. I hope you won't find the occasion to play heroine for the rest of your voyage."

Lucius stood as well. "Draco, are you coming?"

Draco hadn't moved from his seat between Astoria and Hermione. "In a moment, Father. I'm going to escort Miss Granger to the stairs."

"Draco, she's a fearless, independent woman. I'm sure she can find her own way back to steerage," Astoria said, her voice slightly slurred from the wine she'd had with dinner. Draco smiled thinly, but stood regardless and held out his hand for Hermione's. 

"I have no doubt that she can find her way anywhere she pleases. However, I am a gentleman, Astoria, and I'm going to escort our guest to the stairs. If you will excuse me," he said, tucking Hermione's arm in his.

Hermione smiled sweetly at the occupants of the table. "Thank you all for a very nice evening; it was lovely to make your acquaintance. Good night."

Mrs. Brown reached out and took Hermione's hand. "I'm so pleased you decided to join us tonight, Hermione. You certainly classed up the joint!"

Hermione leaned down and kissed the older woman on the cheek. "Thank you. Thank you for everything. You've been exceedingly kind."

"Oh, never you mind that. It was my pleasure." 

After they stepped into the reception room, Draco took Hermione's hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles, lingering there longer than strictly proper. When he straightened, he continued to hold her hand in both of his. "I had a wonderful time tonight," he said softly. "I meant what I said. You _do_ astound me."

Hermione looked away, biting her lip. When she turned back to him, she smiled slyly. "How would you like to see how the other half lives?"

Draco grinned. "I thought you'd never ask."

**********

The other half lived like Draco's St. Andrews classmates after a particularly grueling week of examinations – hard. 

He now sat at a round table, a large glass of ale in his hand, watching two men arm wrestling. Draco was no lightweight, but either one of these burly men could have taken him out without breaking a sweat. So, he chose the better part of valor and cheered them on instead.

Hermione was sitting with her cousin Harry and one of his cabin mates, a man named Ron Weasley. The red-haired man had spent the last hour glaring suspiciously at him, having immediately picked up on Draco's interest in the lovely young woman that he obviously had his eye on as well. 

Harry had been cordial and quite curious about Draco's connection to his cousin, but he seemed to have the faith in her judgment and shook Draco's hand forthwith. Still, his gaze from behind his round spectacles was watchful.

Just then, one of the wrestlers slammed the arm of the other onto the table, yelling in triumph and jostling Draco's ale into his lap. Standing quickly to avoid a full drenching, Draco caught Hermione's gaze. She was laughing, her cheeks rosy from the ale she had been drinking, but what caught Draco's attention was the honest longing in her expressive eyes as she watched him. 

Draco excused himself from the table, the men laughing good-naturedly at his posh manners, and shook the droplets of ale from his jacket. He walked over to Hermione and offered his hand. 

"I haven't yet asked you to dance, Miss Granger," he said. "If your cousin doesn't mind, that is." Harry nodded as Hermione rose to her feet. 

"Do you know how to dance?" Hermione asked as Draco led her to the center of the makeshift dance floor. 

"I'll have you know, Miss Granger, that I took dance instruction from the age of nine," Draco replied, feigning offense. "And I was a star pupil." 

Hermione tossed her head back, laughing, and she was so very pretty that Draco could only stare helplessly at her. 

"Not this kind of dancing, you didn't!" she replied.

At that moment, the improvised band – two fiddlers, a drummer, and a man with an accordion – launched into an energetic jig and soon, Draco and Hermione were swept up into the throng of dancers. 

No, he didn't know this dance – it was nothing fancier than a country reel – but Hermione did, and before long, she had him tapping his feet with the best of them. He whirled her around the floor until the pins in her hair loosened and the mass of curls lay half up, half down on her shoulders. They held each other too close for societal convention, but the unpretentious people in Third Class took no issue with it, so Draco was happy to have her in his arms with her own draped around his neck, her lips so close he was tempted beyond good sense to kiss her. 

So caught up was Draco with Hermione that he failed to notice the dark-clad figure of Severus Snape peering over the stair railing, his stern gaze fastened on his former student and the woman he was leading merrily across the floor.

**********


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

 

It was nearly two o'clock in the morning when Draco returned to his stateroom. He was looking forward to a bath to wash away the smell of tobacco smoke and spilled ale, then falling into bed to sleep off his overindulgence. He let himself into his room, moving as quietly as possible to avoid waking Lucius, whom he could hear snoring in his own room on the other side of the door.

"Where have you been?"

Draco groaned at the sound of Astoria's prim voice. "Astoria. It's late, darling, why aren't you in your own bed? It's not suitable for you to be here."

Astoria, clad in a lovely blue negligee, was half-reclined on his bed, her black hair loose around her shoulders. The scene might have been arousing had she not been wearing a petulant frown. 

The memory of Hermione twirling around the dance floor with him, her face alight with happiness, shed any desire he might ever have had for his fiancée. 

"Astoria, it's late and I am tired. I'd like to take a bath and go to bed," Draco sighed.

She left the bed and walked towards him. "Let me help you, husband," she said, reaching for his coat.

Draco stepped back, and her hand fell just shy of him. "We are not yet married, Astoria," Draco said.

Her frown deepened. "We may as well be. In less than three months, Draco, I will be your wife. I know my duty."

Draco laughed, wincing at the drunken sound of it. "Your duty? Nice to know that I'm just another entry on your list of household tasks, Astoria!"

Astoria stepped closer again, her nose wrinkling in distaste. "You smell awful. I'll ask you again – where have you been?"

"None of your business." Draco pushed past her, stripping off his jacket and waistcoat, then the bowtie that hung loose around his collar. He tossed them onto the chair. Astoria grabbed his arm.

"It is my business if you're seeing that woman behind my back!" she said, her voice rising.

"Keep your voice down, woman! If you wake my father-"

"Oh, he already knows! He sent that odious man of yours, Snape, to find you tonight! He knows where you were and that you were with that... that common slut!"

Draco shook off her hand, then grabbed her arms in a bruising grip. "If you weren't a lady – and I'm starting to doubt it – I would slap your face for that insult!"

Astoria's eyes blazed with angry tears. "Let me go, you swine. Let me go!"

Draco released her so abruptly that she stumbled back against the desk; a vase of flowers tipped over, the water spilling onto the carpet. 

She gave him a nasty smile. "My father will hear about this."

Before Draco could invite her to tell the whole bloody ship if she pleased, Lucius's voice interrupted.

"He most certainly will not, Astoria," he said from the doorway to Draco's room, his expression thunderous. "You will keep your mouth shut. As will Draco." 

"You can't make me! I won't marry him now!" Astoria cried, clenching her fists in her gown, looking only moments away from a full-blown tantrum.

"Is that so?" Lucius replied in a silky tone. 

Astoria lifted her chin and sneered at him.

"You need my father more than he needs you! You're a very poor man, Mr. Malfoy, and you only just narrowly escaped prison for your misdeeds."

Lucius laughed. "You know nothing, miss. Your father may very well be providing a monetary reward for taking you off his hands-" 

At this offense, Astoria gasped, but she stayed silent. 

"But make no mistake – I am no fool. I would not have entered into any agreement with Wallace Greengrass if I were not going to have the upper hand. He owes me, Astoria. He owes me."

Draco stared at his father, perplexed at his mysterious words. "Father, what do you mean, he owes you? Owes you for what?"

Lucius glared at him. "That is not something that concerns you, Draco. All that matters here is that you are betrothed to Miss Greengrass and you will be marrying her in June."

"I won't marry him!" she cried, but the conviction had left her voice. She gave Draco a venomous look. "He's made a fool out of me tonight."

"And who knows? Me? Snape? A few dozen passengers in steerage, most of who don't even speak English. You needn't worry – your secret is safe. Now, it is very late and I'm sure Draco needs to sleep off his stupidity. Go back to your room and go to bed."

Astoria looked at Draco, as if expecting him to come to her defense, but when he turned away and walked into the lavatory, she stormed from the stateroom, slamming the door behind her. 

"Draco."

"Not now, Father," Draco said as he turned the taps on the tub.

"Yes, now!"

Lucius started to step into the lavatory, but Draco gripped the edge of the door in one white-knuckled hand. 

"I said NO!" he yelled, then slammed the door in Lucius's face. He pressed his forehead against the door, his earlier happiness fading to despair.

**********

13 April 1912  
At Sea – Late Morning

 

Severus was sitting in the Second Class smoking room the next morning, a book lying forgotten on his lap as he stared out the window, deep in thought. He looked up, vaguely irritated, as a shadow fell over him. The rebuke died in his throat when he saw that it was Draco.

"Good morning, Draco," he said mildly as Draco took the chair across from him. Within moments, a steward was at his elbow.

"May I bring you tea or coffee, sir?" the steward asked.

Draco rubbed his temples. "Better make it tea."

Severus watched his former student with an inscrutable expression. "Tired?"

"Utterly."

Severus took a sip of his own tea. "Your activities in steerage must have been particularly strenuous last night."

Draco's glare was lethal. "I was informed that you were spying on me. I do not appreciate being treated like an errant child, Severus."

"Then don't act like one."

Draco opened his mouth to retort, but the steward returned at that moment, placing a small silver tea service on the table between them. As the steward started to pour milk into his cup, Draco waved him off. 

"Thank you, I can get it."

After the steward departed, Draco fixed the tea himself, with several spoonfuls of sugar and no milk. His eyes fluttered closed as he took a sip. 

"That's good," he said with a sigh. He opened his eyes and saw that Severus was watching him closely. "I resent your lack of trust in me, Severus."

Severus laid his book aside and refreshed his own tea. He watched Draco impassively.

"She's very pretty, Draco, but she's common. The daughter of a country teacher-"

"He's a professor at Oxford! You yourself were a professor, Severus! It's not like Hermione's an illiterate barmaid. She's quite intelligent."

"Be that as it may, Draco, but _you_ are quality. Your mother Narcissa was heiress to a great fortune and the daughter of a baroness-"

"What good does that do me now? The fortune's gone and all I have is a name. Besides, I don't care. You know none of that matters to me!"

Severus leaned forward, his hand grasping Draco's wrist in a claw-like grip. "You would do well to care, Draco! You have a duty to Miss Greengrass and to your-"

Draco tried to pull away, but Severus clung tightly to him. "Don't you dare say that I have a duty to my father. You don't even like him!" Draco spat.

"I was going to say to yourself, Draco. You have a duty to _yourself_. You are a brilliant young man, with a shining future ahead of you. If you get involved with this woman and bring humiliation down on your head and on your fiancée, your reputation will be in tatters. Miss Greengrass's reputation will be utterly destroyed."

Draco closed his eyes as his head throbbed mercilessly. "I don't love her, Severus. I feel... I feel trapped by all of this!" He flung his arm out to take in the luxury surrounding them. 

Severus let go of Draco's arm and picked up his teacup. Leaning back in his chair, he studied his protégé. "Love has nothing to do with it, Draco. Do you think your parents were in love? Or mine? Love is for those people who have nothing else to call their own."

Draco's lips twisted into a sneer. "People like Hermione, you mean."

Severus nodded slowly. "Miss Granger is a pleasant enough young woman and, as I said, she is quite pretty. I'm sure she'll make a fine wife for someone of her station, but you are not the man for the likes of her. You are better than she."

"Why? What defines me as ‘better’? Certainly not my family or my circumstances. Severus, her Oxford professor father is probably richer than my own!"

Severus slashed his hand through the air between them. "Keep your voice down, boy! Do you want to bring ruin down on all our heads?"

Draco glared at him, his teeth clenched so tight that a tic had formed in his jaw. "It isn't fair," he said at last. "None of it is fair. I never wanted a life like this."

"This isn't a schoolyard game, Draco. There is no ‘fair’ and ‘unfair.’ And you would do well to be grateful for this life, for it will give back to you a thousandfold. Or do you fancy yourself a gentleman farmer with your pretty Miss Granger, trying to feed a half-dozen of her squalling brats?" 

Draco stood up so suddenly that his knees bumped the table between them and upended his teacup. Severus glanced around, but only the steward had noticed and sprang forward to clean up the mess. 

"Draco, sit down. There is no need to cause a scene," he said in a near-whisper. The steward looked curiously at Draco but when Severus gave him a gesture of dismissal, he stepped away.

"I... I need some fresh air. I'm sorry, Severus."

Before Severus could say anything further, Draco had stalked out of the smoking room.

**********

"Good morning, boys!" Hermione said cheerfully as she sat down next to Harry and across from Ron Weasley. The redhead lifted his tweed cap and gave her a charming grin. 

"Miss Hermione, you look as pretty as a daisy. Sea life agrees with you," he said.

Hermione blushed. "Thank you, Mr. Weasley, that's very kind – and very forward – of you," she said as she spooned porridge into a small bowl. "And, from what I've heard, sea life _hasn't_ agreed with you."

Ron grinned at her, unabashed. "Truth be told, I've spent more time giving up my lunch than eating it."

"Nice image, thank you," Harry said with an expression of amused distaste. Hermione shook her head as she poured herself a cup of tea. 

"I love the sea," she said. "It's so peaceful, so vast and beautiful. I could stay here forever."

"Ugh! Give me the solid ground!" Ron replied. "I want to be able to walk a straight path without feeling like my innards are going to show themselves!"

While Hermione ate her simple breakfast of porridge and toast with marmalade, and Harry and Ron chatted easily with each other, she thought back to the night before and Draco. He had been the perfect gentleman at dinner, but she had seen the strain on his face, a tension that had only eased once they were enjoying the party below decks. 

There was no doubt that Draco Malfoy had been raised in privilege, but instead of taking it as his due, he seemed oppressed by his wealth and social advantage. As they danced well into the night, it had seemed as if layers were being shed from him, revealing to her each wonderful part of his true personality, bit by bit. 

She loved that he was curious about her and that he found her desire to be a writer as natural as if she'd said she wanted to knit woolen hats or grow a garden. He'd asked her about her family and, upon finding that she was an only child just as he was, they had spoken of the future desire each had for a large family to make up for the one they never had.

Draco had been less forthcoming about himself, and Hermione chose not to press for more information – he would share with her when and if the time was right. All he would say of Astoria was that he had met her a mere week after their fathers had betrothed them and that they weren't well suited. Of his father, Lucius, he would say nothing at all and, to distract her, he had pulled her into yet another vigorous dance.

While Hermione wondered later at Draco's evasiveness, she had put it out of her mind, resolving to not pester him for answers he did not want to give. 

"Hermione? Hermione, love, are you in there?" 

She came back to the present, with Harry's hand waving in front of her face. Laughing, she swatted it away. "Stop that!"

"You were a million miles away, miss," Ron said, as he tamped tobacco into his pipe. His smile was a bit pensive. "Or maybe just as far away as last night."

Hermione started, glancing over to find Harry watching her closely. "I beg your pardon?"

Harry shrugged. "Don't be cross, love. We just didn't think your new friend would want to spend time with the likes of us here in steerage."

"Draco's not like that. He enjoyed himself very much." Hermione's appetite fled and she pushed her porridge bowl aside. "He's very kind, you know."

Ron puffed on his pipe and gazed over her shoulder at the other passengers. "He's the sort of man you find appealing, then? The poncey, rich sort?" he asked mildly. Hermione's mouth fell open.

"I don't think that's any of your business, Mr. Weasley! Draco is just a friend. He's been most kind to me and I only wanted to return his kindness by inviting him to the party."

Ron looked back at her, his gaze level and serious. "I didn't mean to offend you, miss. Excuse me." 

After he sauntered off, Harry turned to Hermione. "Hermione, that was rude."

"I was rude? Harry, he had no right to ask me such a question."

Harry sighed. Taking off his spectacles, he rubbed one hand over his face. "Look, let's go for a walk, okay?"

Once they were on deck, Harry took her hand in his. "Ron likes you. He asked me if he might court you. When we reach America, that is."

"Court me? Harry, you're not my father!" Hermione said, aghast.

Harry laughed. "No, but in his absence, I'm the next best thing."

"I'm twenty-two, Harry. I'm an adult and I don't need a man telling me whom I can and can't court. It's absurd. It's the twentieth century!"

"He's a good bloke, Hermione. An honest, Christian man with what sounds to be a good work ethic. He would make a fine husband."

Hermione jerked her hand free. "Harry Potter, how dare you?"

He looked hurt at her sharp words, and Hermione's expression gentled. She tucked her arm through his as they leaned against the railing and looked out at the calm ocean.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I don't mean to be so cross with you, Harry. You're my best friend and I don't want to be at odds with you."

"I'm not going to lie to you, Hermione. I worry about you and this man. He's not our kind. How do you know that he isn't just using you to pass the time, or worse? No! Don't give me that look... I know you've had the same thought."

Hermione laid her head on his shoulder, shivering a bit in the morning chill. "Okay, yes. Yes, I had my doubts at first. I mean, why on earth would he give me a look when he has that beautiful woman on his arm?"

"Bollocks, Hermione. You are every bit as lovely-"

"Harry, stop it!" She looked over at him, to find him grinning ear to ear. "You're a dolt."

"And you are a rude woman. Dolt!"

"You are!"

"Not!"

They bickered back and forth until Hermione pinched him hard on the arm. Harry jostled her playfully, then his expression sobered. 

"You are, you know. Beautiful. And that's what worries me."

"Why?"

"Men like this Malfoy... I'm just afraid that he's toying with you. You're an unmarried woman, Hermione."

"Oh, Harry! Don't you trust me?"

"I trust you, Hermione. I don't know if I trust him."

Hermione pulled away, and clasped her hands, her arms braced on the railing. "You don't know him, Harry. He's... he's wonderful."

"And you do? Hermione, you've known him for, what? Two days?"

"It's long enough. Harry, hasn't your heart ever told you the truth about someone?"

He stared at her, surprised. "I don't know what you mean," he finally said.

"I do. My heart knows him. I don't know how, or why, but it does. Harry, it really does!"

Hermione's eyes filled with tears and she covered her face. Baffled, Harry patted her back gently. "Jesus, Hermione, you're serious about this man."

She smacked his arm, then wiped her eyes with her fingers. "Don't be profane, Harry. And I don't know if I'm serious about him. How can I be? He's engaged to another woman."

"Which is why I'm begging you to be careful. Just... just be careful, okay? Don't let him break your heart."

Hermione laid her head back on Harry's shoulder and grasped his hand in hers. 

"I know what I'm doing, Harry. I promise."

**********

14 April 1912  
At Sea - Late Morning

 

After breakfast, the First Class dining saloon had been cleared and the chairs lined up in neat rows. At promptly 10:30 a.m., Captain Smith opened his hymnal and led the gathered passengers in song.

Draco was seated between Lucius and Astoria, with her parents on her other side. Severus, a fierce opponent of religious thought, had chosen to spend the rest of his morning in the library. Draco had managed to avoid all of Lucius's attempts to confront him over Hermione and he had finally given up; he hadn't spoken to Draco since supper the night before. Astoria, for her part, was pretending as if their altercation hadn't taken place.

The Anglican service was familiar to Draco, so he let his thoughts wander back to Hermione. He hadn't seen her at all the day before after parting in the early morning hours, and he couldn't help but wonder if she were avoiding him, although he couldn't think of any reason for her to do this. He had even returned to the stern of the ship, hoping to find Hermione there, but she was nowhere to be found.

He knew he was over-thinking it; Hermione had indulged in several glasses of ale, as he had, and had probably been nursing a headache or a queasy stomach. Lord knew, he had spent more than a few uncomfortable minutes in the lavatory wondering if he were going to be ill. 

Certainly that was it, because he had given her no other reason to avoid him. _Had he?_

When Captain Smith brought the services to an end, close to an hour later, Draco stood and looked to the back of the room. To his shock, Hermione was there, speaking to Harry. She had not yet noticed him.

"Well!" Astoria exclaimed as she slid her hand around his arm. "Mama, did you realize that the steerage passengers took part in our service?"

Veronica looked over her shoulder, her lips turning down in displeasure. "Surely Third Class passengers have their own religious services?"

"Does it matter?" Draco asked, keeping his tone mild. "I mean to say, it isn't as if they're causing a disturbance."

Astoria and her mother ignored him, but Lucius leaned close. "Careful, son, your predilection for the lower classes will be your undoing," he whispered in a patronizing tone. 

_So, that's how it's to be,_ Draco thought bitterly to himself. "Indeed, Father. You would know best, wouldn't you?"

Before Lucius could do more than sneer at him, Draco disengaged his arm from Astoria's grip and stepped out into the aisle made between the rows of chairs. He walked over to Hermione and Harry. Harry noticed his approach and touched Hermione's arm. She looked up and the brilliant smile she gave Draco eased all of his earlier misgivings.

"Good morning, Miss Granger, Mr. Potter," he said, giving them a polite nod. "Miss Granger, you look lovely this fine morning." 

Harry shook his hand as Hermione flushed with pleasure at Draco's comment. 

"Mr. Malfoy, it's nice to see you again," Harry said. "I was just telling Hermione that this is probably the first time I've been in church since the turn of the century!"

Draco laughed. "Either you are older than I imagined, or your parents were remarkably lenient with your religious education."

In an instant, Draco realized he'd said something very wrong. The smile vanished from Harry's face and Hermione turned to her cousin, her pretty face drawn into lines of distress. 

"I'm sorry," Draco apologized. "I've said something wrong, haven't I?"

"No, of course not," Harry replied. One look at Hermione told Draco that her cousin wasn't being entirely truthful.

"My apologies-" Draco tried again, but Harry waved them off.

"Not necessary." Harry said curtly, then turned to Hermione. "What are your plans for this afternoon, love?"

"I'm not sure." Hermione glanced at Draco. "I think I might return to the library. I'm sure I can find something there to entertain me." 

There was an undercurrent of _something_ between the cousins that Draco couldn't put his finger on. Hermione seemed unusually anxious and Draco was sure it was due to the comment he'd made about Harry's parents. Harry, who had been quite cordial during their first meeting, now seemed very cool towards him.

"Come with me, Harry! We could play cards... You promised to teach me how to play pinochle," Hermione wheedled, pinching Harry on the arm.

"Maybe later. I told Ron that I would meet him in the smoking room." He looked briefly at Draco, a resigned sort of expression on his face. "Be sensible, Hermione."

"Harry, I-"

"I know, you're always sensible. It's just-" Harry pulled Hermione a few steps away, turning her so that their conversation was shielded from Draco's view. Whatever he was saying to Hermione made her lips thin unhappily. 

"There you are, darling. You are a slippery one, aren't you?" Astoria cooed in his ear. Her sly gaze fell on Hermione, who was watching Harry leave.

"Miss Granger, isn't it? You've developed a taste for First Class, haven't you? I wasn't aware that religious services weren't provided in steerage."

To her credit, Hermione recovered from Astoria's sour words with aplomb. "The first service in Third Class is Catholic, Miss Greengrass, and I am not of the Catholic persuasion. Captain Smith's Anglican service is more to my liking. I do appreciate the White Star Line's progressive attitude towards the religious needs of their passengers."

"Indeed? Perhaps I shall have to write them a letter, expressing my feelings on their... 'progressive attitude.'" Astoria said icily. "Draco, shall we go? I wish to have dinner in the Café Parisien. Good day, Miss Granger."

Draco could tell that Astoria's unfriendly demeanor startled Hermione, but before he could say so much as "goodbye," she nodded primly at him, and strode away.

"It wouldn't hurt you to be nice, Astoria," Draco said as they stepped out into the reception room. "Miss Granger has been nothing but-"

"I don't know whom you take me for, Draco Malfoy, but I will not play the gracious hostess to your whore. Is that understood?" Astoria said coldly.

Draco stared at her, aghast not only at her foul words, but the venom with which they were delivered. For once, the hot fury that seemed to be writhing constantly inside him was nowhere to be found, replaced instead by a calm resolve that gave him the strength to speak the words that he'd been aching to say.

"Astoria, if you ever use that foul word to disparage Miss Granger again, I will throw you over the side of this ship. She has been the very picture of kindness and has received in return nothing but spite and contempt, from you and from our families. I will not have it!" 

Astoria stood stock-still; the only outward expression of her shock was her quivering lips and wide, blue eyes. Draco took advantage of her silence to continue.

"You would do quite well to take a page out of Miss Granger's book or you will find yourself humiliated in front of all these pretentious, spoiled _cows_ that you hold in such high esteem. I promise you that."

Draco's words had been delivered in a near-whisper, but when he took a step away from her, Astoria looked at him as if he'd screamed at her at the top of lungs. 

He smiled icily at her. "Have I made myself clear, Astoria?" 

It took her several moments before she could answer him and when she did, her voice quavered with rage. 

"I will not marry you now, Draco. I don't care what kind of agreement our fathers have; I don't care what lies your father claims to know about mine. I despise you and I refuse to waste another moment on you!"

Draco laughed loudly; it pealed out, drawing several disapproving stares from nearby passengers. 

"The feeling is mutual, darling," he sneered. "Good luck, Astoria, I'm sure you'll make some poor sod's life a living hell."

"Well, I hope you _rot_ in yours!" she spat. 

Watching Astoria flounce away, Draco felt a relief wash over him like none he had ever known. It was as if the weight of a mountain had been lifted from his shoulders. He had little doubt that Lucius would be enraged when he found out, but really, what could he do besides fuss like an old maid over it? 

Astoria's parting words about lies and agreements were curious, but Draco found that he really didn't give a tinker's damn about his father's misdeeds. It was the past and Draco wanted to look forward to the future. 

All that filled his thoughts at that moment was Hermione.

He needed to find her.

**********

After the uncomfortable scene in the dining saloon, Hermione found refuge again in the Second Class library. It was empty; most of the passengers were taking elevenses in the Verandah Café or enjoying the sea air on deck. Hermione reveled in having the comfortable room to herself, even though technically, as a Third Class passenger, she wasn't supposed to be there. 

When Hermione had first seen Draco after services, she had been taken aback by the pleasure on his face and the resulting thrill of anticipation that had settled low in her stomach. Even Harry, sweet, perceptive Harry, had noticed – she had seen the worry reflected in his troubled gaze.

Draco's innocent comment about Harry's parents had been unfortunate indeed. It was a painful part of his life that Harry had struggled to come to terms with, and Hermione hoped that it would not set his heart against Draco. She truly felt that both men could be friends, if they gave it a chance. 

She was writing the last of the morning's events in her journal when a shadow fell over her. She closed her book abruptly and looked up into Draco's clear, gray eyes. He was smiling sweetly at her, and when he had her notice, he dropped to his knees at her side and took her free hand.

"Miss Granger... Hermione... please accept my deepest apologies for Astoria's abhorrent behavior," he pleaded with her.

Hermione set the journal aside and laid her other hand atop his. "It's I who should apologize to you," she replied. She tugged gently on his hand. "Please, sit. It's not proper for you to be on your knees before me, sir."

Draco kept her hand in his, but did as she requested and sat beside her on the settee. "I can't imagine what you could possibly have to apologize for, for I find you quite perfect."

Hermione giggled. "Perfect? You're mad!"

A shadow crossed his face and was just as quickly dismissed. "Very likely I am. But I must know... why do you need to apologize to me?"

"For Harry."

"I thought perhaps I'd said something wrong, but-"

"Oh no! No, you couldn't have known. Harry... he's an orphan, you see, since he was only a year old. He was raised by some relatives on his mother's side; they were the most horrid people and they made his life miserable!"

"That's awful!"

Hermione nodded earnestly. "Anyway, he never really knew his parents, and after living with the Dursleys until he was eleven, he came to live with my family in Oxford."

Draco leaned back in his seat, enjoying the feel of Hermione's hand in his. So intent was she on her story, that she didn't notice that he was stroking his thumb gently over the delicate bones of her knuckles.

"It was very fortunate that he had a loving home to go to," Draco said. 

"It was, but Harry's got a bit of wanderlust. He left when he turned seventeen and traveled for a while. He came back to visit late last year and, as I had already decided to make the journey to America, he jumped at the chance to come with me."

"You're very good friends, aren't you?"

"We are. Harry's always been wonderful to me and I so want him to like you."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Like me? Why should he care?"

"Because I do." She paused, and he could tell that she was weighing her next words. "You intrigue me, Draco. You're not at all the way I thought you would be."

Draco leaned forward, compelled by her quietly spoken words. Her dark eyes widened a bit, then she looked down at their clasped hands, a self-conscious smile tugging at her lips. But, to Draco's delight, she kept her hand in his. 

"Tell me, Hermione," he said coaxingly. "Tell me why I intrigue you, and I'll tell you the same."

She opened her mouth to answer, but the words didn't come. Instead, she reached for her journal, skimming through the pages until she found the one she wanted. She handed the book to Draco.

"Read this. I think it will answer all your questions."

Surprised, Draco nodded, taking the journal as Hermione stood up and walked over to the window.

_"I met him tonight, and contrary to my fanciful daydreams, it was quite awful. Oh, not because he's awful – quite the opposite, in fact. I found myself drawn to him, like the tide to the shore, or the sun to the horizon. It was something beyond my control and, I confess, it frightens me. I've never felt this way about anyone before, not even that nice young man at the chemist's in Oxford._

_I was outside, lying on a long, teak bench near the stern. It was very peaceful, with the distant sound of the sea splashing against the hull of the ship, and the blanket of stars above. I think I could have been lulled to sleep in the arms of such natural beauty._

_It is serendipitous that I was looking at the constellation Draco when he appeared in my midst, the stars made flesh as if conjured there by His divine hand. How foolish and romantic! I'm not normally given to such flights of fancy, but he inspires me and I can't say why. I don't_ know _why! All I know is, after tonight, he's all I can think about, all I can see. Something tells me, deep down, that this man is meant to be in my life, at this moment in time. What that means has yet to be revealed._

_But I digress._

_I soon heard the sound of approaching footsteps, the sound of someone running very fast, but he had already passed my hiding spot when I sat up to investigate the source of the disturbance. It was he! The man I had seen on the dock in Southampton and the very same man who looked at me so strangely on deck earlier this very day._

_He ran to the railing and, for a dreadful moment, I thought he was going to pitch headfirst overboard! I'd only just caught my breath, when my fear came true. He climbed atop the railing and stepped over it, to the outside of the ship. He was clinging onto_ Titanic _only with only his hands on the rails and the tips of his toes. He could have fallen at any moment and I was frozen with fear for him._

_He looked up, and it was then that I could see his face and the despair that I saw there broke my heart into pieces. What could have brought such a man to this point?_

_What could have happened that would make him wish for death?_

_I couldn't stand by and let him do it. I had to help. He needed me, and what could I do but be there for him?_

_I cried out for him to "Stop!"_

_And that is how I met Draco Malfoy..."_

 

There was more she had written of the encounter, several pages more from the look of it, but despite his great curiosity, Draco closed the book. The intimacy of her words, so heartfelt, so full of tender emotion, had struck him forcefully and he wondered at the confidence in them. The conviction she felt that their paths were meant to cross, supported even by the stars in the sky above, was so sure that Draco couldn't help but believe them to be true.

"Hermione."

She startled, but when she didn't face him, Draco went to her, taking her by the shoulders. He tipped her chin and finally, she lifted her eyes to his.

"Hermione. Thank you," Draco said simply.

Her lips parted, surprised, but she remained silent.

"I don't know... if you hadn't been there..." Draco sighed and leaned closer to her, pressing his brow to hers. Hermione's hand came up to cup the back of his neck, her fingertips pressing lightly against his skin, her touch so gentle that it sent shivers down his spine. Her eyes fluttered closed, but he found he couldn't take his eyes off of her dear face.

"I was meant to be there. I was _meant_ to save you," Hermione whispered as Draco's arm wrapped around her waist. He pulled her closer, but not so close that he would alarm her with his intimacy. 

"You have, Hermione. More than you could ever know."

Their eyes met, and then their lips. It was properly chaste, but only just. Draco could feel her trembling – or maybe it was he? – so he gentled his touch, but she swayed towards him, her fingers pressing into his nape as if to communicate her yearning for him. It made his heart pound in a way that Astoria's kisses had never done. 

Hermione senses were whirling; the touch of Draco's mouth on hers was a new sensation, her first kiss, but the very rightness of it vanished any hesitation on her part. She should have demurely refused him, chastised him for his presumption, but the heat of his breath, the fullness of his mouth, the barest touch of his tongue to the plump curve of her bottom lip, set her afire, and instead of pushing him away, she pressed even closer to his chest.

He stilled for a moment and Hermione nearly panicked, afraid that she was being too brazen, but when she saw the warmth and tenderness in his eyes, she made a small sound in her throat that had him drawing her tightly against his body.

A sound from outside the library door broke their embrace and they sprang apart as two women entered. They were deep in conversation and only gave Draco and Hermione a passing nod before taking seats on the other side of the room, but it was enough to bring them back to their scattered senses.

Hermione could feel the heat of her blush causing beads of perspiration to form along her hairline and between her breasts. She felt languid, her body still trembling, and she was suffused with a happiness that she'd scarcely known was possible. Shyly, she looked up at Draco and found him grinning down at her, his pale eyes full of affection for her. It made her heart soar.

"You are so beautiful, Hermione," Draco whispered, putting every ounce of feeling into his words and seeing her answer in her radiant smile.

"I think you're beautiful, too," she replied, daring to brush her fingers against his. 

"I've never been called beautiful; can men be beautiful?" Draco asked, laughing.

"Of course they can! And don't tell me that you don't look in the mirror and see what I see."

"There's something I need to do, but I want to see you later. Please say you'll meet me after supper?" Draco whispered.

Hermione instantly agreed. "Of course! When... where shall I meet you?"

Draco curled his pinky finger around hers, wishing he could bring her back into his arms for another splendid kiss. "Where we first met. Nine o'clock."

"Nine o'clock, yes. I'll be there, Draco."

Draco let go of her hand, reluctantly, and gave her a proper nod, in case the other two women were watching. "Until then."

After Draco left, Hermione forced herself to sit down and catch her breath. She picked up her journal, but was simply too happy to write.

**********

14 April 1912  
At Sea

 

Draco was already waiting when Hermione arrived. She was surprised to find him dressed casually, especially since supper in First Class was only just ending. She quietly held back, admiring his tall, handsome figure. He was leaning on the railing, exactly where they had met only four nights ago, gazing up at the moonless sky overhead.

"Hello," she finally said. 

Draco quickly turned, his melancholy expression replaced with one of delight. "Hermione!"

Three long strides brought him to her side and he took both of her hands in his. "I missed you," he said, before kissing her cheek, then brushing his lips lightly over hers.

Any concern that Draco might've lost interest in her in the short span of hours since they'd last met faded away. "I missed you, too, Draco. You... you're all I can think about!"

She flushed as soon as the words left her mouth, but Draco cupped her cheek in his palm and lowered his lips to hers again. The kiss remained chaste, but Hermione could feel his hand trembling; she covered it with her own, squeezing his fingers reassuringly.

"I didn't tell you before, because I wasn't sure how you would feel about it..." Draco began, as he drew her over to the railing. He paused, looking down at their entwined fingers.

"Draco, what? What did you want to tell me?"

He brought her hand to his lips, kissing each finger in turn. "First of all, I want to say that... well, that you've opened my eyes, Hermione. You were right, that day on deck. I come from privilege, but at a cost."

Her brow furrowed. "I don't understand, Draco," Hermione said.

He laughed. "Neither do I! Neither do I, Hermione. Let me see if I can explain..."

He drew her over to a nearby bench. He clasped her hand between both of his, his thumb caressing the back of her wrist. 

"I grew up in Wiltshire, on land belonging to my mother's family, in a lovely manor house that was the envy of everyone in the village. I was my parents' only child. To say I was spoiled... well..."

They both laughed as Draco shrugged. "It's to be expected, Draco," Hermione said. "I, too, am an only child. Although I did not come from privilege, I do understand being indulged."

"Then, maybe you _will_ understand. Somehow, I thought you might." Draco leaned back and held out his arm for Hermione to settle back against his chest. He pressed his lips to her temple, breathing in her sweet lilac scent. 

He continued. "My father was never a warm person to anyone, even Mother, but I rarely saw him, especially after I left for school when I was eleven. Mother died just after I left Eton." 

Hermione gasped at his words and her hands tightened on his in sympathy. 

"It was quick. Her heart was fragile and finally failed her. I was with her when she died, and her parting words to me were to follow my heart and to make her proud."

"Oh, Draco! I know that she must be so terribly proud of you! You're a splendid man that any mother would be happy to call her son!" Hermione pressed her fingers to her lips, but the emotion in her eyes filled Draco's heart.

"I believe so... yes, I do. Anyway, I had been accepted to St. Andrews so, despite my heavy heart, I left for school with the assumption that my father would be an attentive custodian of Mother's estate."

"Was it not his, as your mother's husband?"

Draco shrugged. "I'll be honest with you, Hermione. I haven't a head for business and Father has always kept me at arm's length regarding the administration of Mother's estate. As I understand it, the estate was a minor barony, and Mother was the only living sister of three, with no male relatives. My grandfather's will was quite specific in stating that the estate would pass from Mother to her first-born child – me."

"That sounds reasonable. Your grandfather must have been a very progressive gentleman."

"Actually, I never knew him. He and my grandmother died in a carriage accident before I was born."

Again, Hermione's gaze turned on him in sympathy. "I'm so sorry, Draco. How awful for you!"

"You're very kind to say so, my sweet. While at St. Andrews, I assumed all was well at home. I enjoyed university very much and in order to focus completely on my studies, I never returned home for holidays. I preferred to assist my professors with their research and take short trips to various locales to further my own education."

"What were you studying?"

"Philosophy and the classics."

Hermione clapped her hands, laughing. "My father is a professor of classical studies!"

Draco leaned forward and lightly kissed her smiling mouth. "Then it was meant for us to meet. The stars point to it," he teased.

Hermione grasped his hand tightly. "Oh! I meant to tell you, but I completely forgot!"

"What is that?"

"Look up, Draco! Look... there!" Draco followed the path of Hermione's finger. "What constellations do you see?"

"I... well, I see Ursa Major..." he said, frowning up at the dark, star-strewn sky.

"And what do you see above the Great Bear?"

Draco looked from Ursa Major to the cluster of stars above it, reaching into his memory for the astronomical names of the constellations. When the name came to him at last, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

"Draco," he breathed. "The Dragon."

"It was the constellation I was observing when you ran past my bench that night. It was you, Draco. I was thinking of _you._ "

Draco watched her expressive face as she continued to gaze up at the stars. She was beautiful, with her flushed cheeks and full, pink mouth, the bottom lip caught between her teeth as she settled back into his embrace. 

"Extraordinary," he whispered. She smiled at him and touched her fingers to his chin.

"Yes. Extraordinary."

Reluctantly looking away from her in an attempt to regain his equilibrium, Draco picked up the thread of his story. "I was not quite two years from finishing when a scandal involving my father broke. The papers were quite vicious, as they are prone to be. You see, he had made some very objectionable political associations and one of those was with a man by the name of Thomas Riddle."

Hermione lifted her head from his shoulder abruptly. "Riddle. I know that name. Your father supported _him?_ But he was dreadful! My father used to rail against him nearly every night when Riddle stood for a seat in the House of Commons!"

"Indeed. Do you remember his ignoble end?"

She couldn't hide the faint smile that graced her lips. "If I recall correctly, he was found dead in a prostitute's bed."

"Not a prostitute, Hermione, but the wife of his rival, Boris Hampstead. And, as the papers reported it, the person suspected of being behind the destruction of Hampstead's reputation was my father. He was working on behalf of Riddle."

Hermione stared at him, agape. "Oh, Draco! And you had no idea until it came out in the papers?"

"Not a clue. After I confronted Father about the rumors, it came to light that he had poured the entirety of Mother's fortune into Riddle's coffers, hoping that it would further his own political ambitions. Needless to say, he didn't expect Riddle to keel over dead after a night in bed with Hampstead's much younger wife."

The old familiar shame of it came over Draco and he pulled away from Hermione, sure that she would be repulsed by his tainted background. But, when she tucked her arm back through his and laid her cheek against his arm, he sighed in relief. What a woman Hermione Granger was turning out to be!

"Go on, Draco. What happened next?"

"I stepped in and, with the help of a school friend's father who is a solicitor, I was able to save the house and most of the surrounding property from being seized, but in the end I had to sell it to pay off the last of Father's debts." Draco paused, assailed by the memory of his mother's prized possessions being sold at auction. 

"After I finished university, Father turned to his very good friend, Wallace Greengrass who, if you haven't already noticed, is extremely wealthy. His eldest daughter Daphne disgraced the family by running off with an unsuitable man." Draco huffed with laughter. "I envied her, you know, for having the guts to follow her heart. I think Mother might've liked her for it."

"I like her for it, myself!" Hermione exclaimed. "How did you become betrothed to Astoria, then?"

"Astoria suffered for her sister's choices. As you may already be aware, society can be... unforgiving. Invitations to parties and to dances soon dried up, and any marriage prospects she might have had vanished. My father, ever the opportunist, saw his chance to use Wallace's predicament to his own advantage."

Hermione was aghast. "He sold you, didn't he? He sold you in marriage in exchange for... for what?"

Draco gave an elegant shrug. "I couldn't tell you. Money, mostly. Prestige, even though it would be dimly reflected off Wallace Greengrass's own status in society. Fortunately, Mother's name was, and is, still very well regarded, so my prospects would not have been that dire. Astoria, however... the sad part is that she doesn't really understand how dismal her future had become. Her parents kept her completely in the dark about it."

Hermione, despite her healthy dislike for the spoiled Miss Greengrass, couldn't help feeling a twinge of sympathy for her. "That's awful, really, that a woman should be held hostage to such outdated ideals regarding marriage and... and... romance."

"Romance? Oh, my sweet girl. There is no romance in high society."

"Do you not love her, Draco? Even a little bit?" Hermione hated the way her voice quavered, and she dreaded his answer, but she cared for Draco and even if he wasn't for her, she wanted his happiness to be assured.

"No. No, I never have. Which brings me to the real reason I needed to talk to you tonight."

He turned to face her, his hands gripping hers. Hermione caught her breath at the expression of hope on his face.

"What, Draco? What reason?"

He took a deep breath, the fresh sea air cleansing his mind as much as it did his lungs. "Hermione, I have ended my engagement to Astoria." 

"You... you what? Oh, Draco, are you sure?" Hermione couldn't deny the surge of hope swelling in her breast at his words.

He touched her hair, catching one curl between his thumb and forefinger, brushing the end of it across her cheek. "Yes, very sure. If I'm married to a woman I don't love, that means I can't court the woman with whom I think I am falling desperately, insanely in love."

Hermione's heart was pounding so hard she thought it would burst right out of her chest. "Draco, I... I don't know what to say!"

He gripped her upper arms in a fierce, yet gentle grip. "Say that I have a chance with you! Hermione, say that you feel the way I do!"

The last lingering misgivings faded away, and Hermione fell into his arms, their lips meeting passionately, urgently. When they parted, Draco embraced her tightly. 

"When we dock in New York, Hermione, I'm getting off the ship with you." Draco felt her nod against his chest, murmuring, "Yes, Draco! Yes, please, yes!"

Setting her at arm's length, he stared at her tear-stained face and the brilliant smile shining there. "Your cousin..."

"He'll be shocked, of course!" she said with a laugh. "But Harry trusts me. He trusts my heart."

"I trust your heart, too. It's the purest heart I've ever known."

Hermione cupped his cheek in her hand. "Are you sure? Draco, I'm not the kind of woman... I'm not your Miss Greengrass."

"First of all, my love, she's no longer my Miss Greengrass. And secondly, I've already told you, you are perfect and I'm used to the best." He winked at her as she swatted at him.

"Oh, you're incorrigible! I'm hardly perfect," Hermione exclaimed, although to Draco, she looked delightfully pleased with herself.

"You're perfect for me. I am astounded by you, Hermione. Your intelligence, your heart, your steadfast belief in the goodness in the world. What more could any man want?"

"Stop..."

"Never. I will never stop singing your praises."

Hermione stood up, taking Draco's hand in hers. "Let's walk and you can finish telling me about your father's scheme." Stopping suddenly, she turned to him, a stricken expression on her face. 

"Oh Draco! Your father!"

"What about him?"

"He'll be furious with you!"

"Hermione, when is he _not_ furious with me? Do you mean, because of Astoria? Don't worry, he already knows. It wasn't a pleasant experience, but..."

Hermione shook her head. "About me! He will never accept me, Draco."

"I'm twenty-one years old, Hermione. He hasn't a choice. He'll have to accept it or he can... he can stay out of my life."

"You don't mean that. Draco, he's your father."

Draco pulled her into his arms and kissed the tip of her nose. "Trust me, Hermione. Trust that I know what I'm doing. You said once, right over there, that you would hold on to me. Now, I'm going to hold on to you."

Hermione smiled, calmed by his reassuring words and the emotion she could see in his gray eyes. "I trust you."

"Good. Now, let's take that walk."

**********


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FOUR**

 

They spent hours exploring the ship, and, as the hour grew late, Draco pulled Hermione onto one of the three elevators behind the Grand Staircase.

The elevator attendant gave them a dubious look, his supercilious gaze lingering on Hermione's simple linen shirtwaist and skirt. "Deck?"

"'E' Deck, please, my good man," Draco answered in his haughtiest tone, his nose firmly in the air, all of which made Hermione dissolve into a fit of giggles.

Draco grinned at her. "Laugh at me, will you?" He looped an arm around her waist and hauled her close, giving her a kiss right on the mouth. 

"Draco, honestly! What do you think you're doing?" she exclaimed, casting a nervous look towards the attendant, who was busy shutting the gate, his reddened ears the only indication of his discomfort at being a captive audience.

"I'm making up for lost time, my sweet. I'm sure this fine gentleman wouldn't blame me a whit for wanting to kiss you every other second." To emphasize his point, he kissed her again, this time behind her left ear.

"I swear, you've gone 'round the bend!"

"Only for you, Hermione." Draco switched to her other ear, giving her ear lobe a teasing lick.

"'E' Deck, sir, miss," the attendant announced when the elevator came smoothly to a halt. He slid the gate open and stepped aside so that Hermione and Draco could exit. 

Draco reached into his pocket and pulled out a crisp pound note, tucking it into the attendant's breast pocket. "For you, sir, with our gratitude." 

While Hermione laughed at Draco's lighthearted antics, he grabbed her hand and pulled her around the bank of elevators, to the stairwell leading down to "F" Deck.

"Draco, where are we going?"

"Come on, I want to show you something!"

They clattered down the stairs to "F" Deck forward, then Draco turned right. A corridor was there, with a sign labeled "Swimming Pool" and below that, "Turkish Baths." There was a strong scent of salt water in the air from the pool. Draco stopped before the entrance to the baths; he tried the door and to their surprise, it opened. "I suppose White Star Line trusts their passengers not to go snooping around after hours," Draco said.

Hermione was watching him with a small frown, her hands braced on her hips. Draco thought she looked utterly adorable. 

"Is that what we're doing?" she asked. "Draco, what if we're seen?" 

"We'll just stay a moment. I want you to see this." Taking her hand, he drew her through the door and shut it behind her. He fumbled for the light switch.

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed when the room was revealed to them. 

They were in what was known as the cooling room. On _Titanic's_ third day at sea, Draco's cabin steward had suggested a Turkish bath and Draco had eagerly taken part, immensely enjoying the steam room, the massage that followed, a relaxing hour in the cooling room, and, after all that, a refreshing dip in the cool salt water swimming pool.

"Isn't it beautiful?" Draco asked. 

Hermione had walked farther into the room, turning slowly in place to take in the elegant and colorful decor. "It's stunning," she breathed. "Like an Arabian fantasy."

The room, like so many others on _Titanic_ , was paneled in teak, but the walls were adorned with lavish porcelain tiles in brilliant blues and greens. Covering the portholes were elaborately carved teak screens, and below each of them, a low chaise lounge upholstered in red brocade. Brass lamps hung from the ceilings, giving off a dim, golden light that gave the room a sultry glamour that took Hermione's breath away.

"I adore it!" she exclaimed at last. "I think this must be my favorite room on the entire ship!"

Draco came up behind her, his arms sliding around her waist to pull her close. She looked over her shoulder and up at him, smiling happily. 

"Thank you for showing it to me, Draco."

"Do you want to see the rest?"

"Should we? I mean, what if someone discovers us here?" Hermione looked anxiously at the door, as if expecting an angry steward to come marching through at any moment.

"They won't," Draco assured her. "Come... I'll show you the steam room!"

They explored the baths from top to bottom; realizing that she'd left her journal in her cabin, Hermione paid special attention, committing everything to memory to record later. 

Once they were back in the cooling room, he drew her down onto one of the chaises, kissing her so thoroughly that it chased everything else out of her mind.

Putting his hands on Hermione's cheeks, he slipped his fingers into her hair and pulled out each hairpin he encountered until the whole, heavy mass of it spilled over his hands. Hermione was watching him somberly, but in her eyes, he could see her yearning. He captured her mouth again and this time there was no innocence, but a frantic desire to taste her lips and to draw her hesitant tongue into his own mouth. She was shaking in his arms, but her own came around his neck, her fingers stroking through the fine hair at his nape. She opened her lips for him, a low moan betraying her desire.

Hermione tasted as sweet as Draco had imagined; even the finest champagne couldn't have improved upon her. He lavished kisses on her mouth, her cheeks, and the tender spot behind her ear, eliciting a husky groan from her that had Draco aching with desire. 

For her part, Hermione explored the hard planes of Draco's chest, pushing aside his jacket so that she could feel his arms and the lean muscles in his back. She had never touched a man like this before; she had never really known a man that she would care to see undressed and to be undressed with. 

But, Draco was different; there was no censure in his eyes, no reproach for her forward behavior, only a thinly veiled desire that Hermione knew was solely for her. He watched her with hooded eyes as she pulled the jacket off his arms and hesitantly smoothed her hands over his chest, smiling shyly when she felt the hard points of his nipples through his shirt. Draco rewarded her with hungry kisses and whispered encouragement as she slipped his braces off his shoulders and unbuttoned his collar.

She was mad, she was behaving like a loose woman, but Hermione didn't care. She wanted to touch Draco, to reassure herself that he was really there and he was really kissing her with a kind of desperation that almost frightened her. But she knew, deep down, that he would never hurt her, because he was meant for her and she was meant for him, like two sides to a coin.

Draco shifted so that he could lay Hermione back on the chaise, and he leaned over her, studying her face with solemn eyes and brushing a curl out of her face. 

"Remember when I said that I thought I was falling insanely, desperately in love?"

Hermione touched his bottom lip and Draco caught her hand in his, drawing the tip of her finger between his lips. She nodded, her eyes never wavering from his own. "Yes. I remember."

"I lied. I've already fallen in love with you. Insanely, desperately in love." 

Hermione took a deep breath and expelled it on a sob. She buried her face in Draco's neck, too overcome by his declaration to do much more than whisper her own vows of love into the warmth of his skin. 

"Draco, this is crazy," she said at last as he wiped her tears away with a handkerchief he'd fetched from his pocket. "We've only just met!"

"You know it's right, Hermione. You said it yourself and, somehow, I don't think you're the type to tell a lie." He smiled down at her as she shook her head fiercely.

"No, I would never lie, not to you." 

“Nor I to you, darling,” he murmured. “Trust in that, always.”

Smiling tremulously, she reached up to stroke his cheek, drawing him down for a kiss.

Within moments, the fire that was building between them was stoked even higher, and when he fumbled with the buttons at her neck, she brushed his hands away and unfastened them herself. 

Draco stopped her when the lacy edge of her chemise and the smooth swell of her breasts were revealed. Reverently, he kissed the hollow of her throat and lower still, where the fragrant heat between her breasts captivated him, even daring to taste her skin with a delicate swipe of his tongue. Hermione's hand cupped the back of his head and she arched her back, his amorous attentions drawing the most delightful sounds from her throat.

Even farther they ventured, until Draco had tugged the top of her chemise down so that the rosy peak of one nipple peeked out. He took it in his mouth, his hand coming up to fondle its twin. Hermione cried out as he laved her with his tongue, first one nipple, then the other through her cotton chemise; she squeezed her legs together in an attempt to ease the wicked sensations that were beginning to gather in her womb.

"You are so beautiful, I just can't get enough of you," Draco breathed against her skin, before burying his face in the crook of her neck and pressing open-mouthed kisses all the way up to her ear. Hermione shivered in his arms, overwhelmed by his amorous attention, too overwhelmed by her yearning for him to even think of pushing him away.

"Touch me, Draco," she implored him as he drew himself up over her, blocking out the room until he was all she could see. She welcomed his weight atop her, and she raised her knees slightly to cradle him against her most intimate place. In the distant recesses of her conscience, she wondered what her mother would say if she could see her daughter acting so shamelessly, but Hermione didn't care. Draco felt utterly marvelous pressed to her so intimately and her head was whirling with the force of the emotions gripping her. 

He had returned his attention to her breasts, his mouth and tongue hot against her flesh; Hermione's hips arched off the chaise when he found a particularly sensitive spot and suckled at it. Her hands came up to grasp at his hair, and she moaned brazenly in appreciation of his reverent touch.

Draco slid his hand along her side, thankful that she had foregone wearing a corset as he felt the soft curve of her waist beneath his eager touch. He moved further still over the swell of her hip, and then he gathered a handful of Hermione's skirt and petticoat, looking down at her and silently begging her permission to go farther.

She obliged him with a smile and his hand slipped beneath her skirt, his palm a warm, heavy weight on her knee. He inched higher and higher still, until he reached the top of her black cotton stocking, then slid his fingertips just underneath the hem of her long knickers. The touch of his bare hand on her thigh was unbearably erotic, and Hermione writhed anxiously beneath him as he lightly stroked his fingers over the sensitive flesh. 

Daringly, then, he brushed his trembling fingers over her knickers, thrilling at the damp evidence of her excitement. He'd never known a woman like her, who, despite her innocence, still eagerly encouraged his attentions and, more importantly, found pleasure from it. 

She clung to him as he thrust his hips against hers in a futile attempt to ease his lust for her. He wanted her so badly now that he continued to kiss her with feverish abandon, even against his better judgment. 

Until that better judgment called a reluctant halt.

Hermione could feel Draco's gaze and she opened her eyes; he was looking down at her with a profound tenderness on his face. 

"Hermione. We need to stop," Draco whispered reluctantly. "I don't know how much longer I can resist you."

"Then don't! Take me if you want me! Draco, I _love_ you," Hermione cried out, lifting her hips to his in blatant invitation. 

However, despite her words of protest and loath to leave the warmth of her embrace, Draco finally lifted himself off her, pulling her up as he went.

"I won't take advantage of you, Hermione," he sighed as he gathered Hermione into his arms again, kissing her sweetly. 

"I suppose I should be ashamed of myself," Hermione said a few minutes later as she buttoned her shirtwaist. Her cheeks were red, but she gave Draco a defiant grin. "I should be, but I'm not. You do something to me, Draco, something amazing, and I can't feel shame for it."

"That is why we mustn't lose our heads, Hermione. When I make love with you, I want it to be right. I want to lay you on our bed and worship you as you should be worshipped, not take you in a public room like a prostitute." He wanted to spend his life with her, he knew it as surely as he drew breath, and he would treat her as a good woman should be treated – with love and respect.

Hermione watched as he pulled his braces back up over his shoulders, then donned his jacket. He was more than she could ever have hoped for in a man; not only was he a complete gentleman, but he treated her as someone of worth, someone to be cherished.

"It's warm down here, don't you think?" Draco said as they cautiously left the Turkish baths, careful to avoid any crewmen who might be near. 

"I think, Mr. Malfoy, that you're just overheated from your recent activities!" Hermione laughed as she raced up the stairs, Draco fast on her heels.

***********

After the almost oppressive heat below decks, the frigid night air was refreshing. Draco and Hermione spilled out of the door onto the well deck, just below the forecastle. There were a few passengers, mostly steerage, walking nearby, but they took no notice of the happy young couple as Draco spun Hermione around in an impromptu dance. She laughed in delight as he pulled her back into his embrace and gave her a long, lingering kiss. 

"You're shivering," he said. "You're going to catch a chill."

"I'm fine... it was so warm down there that this cool air feels good." Hermione leaned into Draco's embrace, smiling giddily up at him. "I've had a wonderful time tonight."

"As have I, Hermione. I can hardly believe you're here with me," Draco said as he slowly turned in place with her, dancing to a tune only they knew. 

The sudden clanging of a bell – three sharp strikes - above them made Draco and Hermione spring apart in surprise. Far above, in the crow's nest, two lookouts were leaning forward; one was speaking into a handset. His shouts were easily heard in the cold, still air.

"Iceberg, right ahead!"

Hermione, whose back was to the bow, spun around to see where they were pointing. The lights on deck made the night sky beyond the boundary of the ship's railing even darker and for a several long moments, neither Hermione nor Draco could see much beyond the tip of the bow.

Then, outlined against the starry sky, the massive outline of an iceberg loomed high above the ship, and _Titanic_ was heading straight towards it.

"Oh my God, Draco, we're going to collide with it!" Hermione gasped, as she clung to Draco's arm. On the bridge above them, they could hear running footsteps and shouts of alarm; then, slowly, the ship began to turn to the left.

"Come on," Draco whispered. "What's taking them so long? Turn!"

Only seconds had passed, and for a moment, it looked as if the great ship would clear the enormous iceberg. But then the ship gave a distinct, albeit subtle, shudder, no more than a heavy vibration that set Draco's teeth on edge. A bump, then another, and another, as the ship scraped the length of the iceberg. Draco dragged Hermione back from the railing as she started forward to get a better look at the passing behemoth.

Within seconds the vibration caused by the collision ceased, and the iceberg faded back into the darkness. Hermione turned in Draco's arms, pressing her cheek to his shoulder. "That was close," she said, but he could hear the trepidation in her voice.

Together, they walked back to the starboard railing and looked over; there were no signs of damage above the water line. "It looks fine, don't you think?" Hermione said, looking back over her shoulder at Draco. "The paint isn't even scraped." 

"We definitely hit it, though. You could feel it. Maybe the damage, if there is any, is beneath the water line."

"But surely, this ship cannot sink!" Hermione replied. "Do you suppose... they claimed _Titanic's_ unsinkable."

"I don't know, darling. Let's get inside, I'm freezing," Draco said, giving her a reassuring smile even though he couldn't deny feeling alarmed by the incident. 

Taking his hand, Hermione followed Draco up to the Boat Deck; at the top of the stairs she stopped, and looked towards the Bridge. "Draco, look."

Captain Smith was standing on the navigating bridge, looking over the starboard side; three of the ship's officers stood nearby, very grave expressions on their faces. One, First Officer Murdoch, saw them watching.

"Please,” he said, approaching swiftly, “I need you to return to your staterooms." 

"Is everything all right?" Hermione asked. "Did we hit that iceberg?"

A guarded expression came over Murdoch's features, and he gave them a strained smile. "I shouldn't think you need to worry, miss. However, you must return to your stateroom straight away and put on your lifebelt. And dress warmly... it's below freezing out here."

He turned to leave, and Draco grabbed his arm. "Is _Titanic_ sinking?"

Draco read the answer in the First Officer's fleeting look of despair and drew back suddenly, shocked by what he saw in the older man's eyes. "Dear God," he whispered, reaching out for Hermione and drawing her tightly against his side.

Murdoch glanced away towards the Captain, who was still standing at the navigation bridge and speaking quietly to the ship's architect, Thomas Andrews, and J. Bruce Ismay, White Star Line's chairman and managing director. Murdoch looked back at Draco and Hermione, smiling thinly. 

"Please put on your lifebelts and return to the Boat Deck, and don't delay."

Without another word, Murdoch strode away, leaving Hermione clinging breathlessly to Draco's arm.

"Draco, oh my God, do you think...?" she started.

Draco clasped her hand tightly in his, pulling her along behind him. "I do. We need to tell my father and the Greengrasses."

As he moved quickly down the Promenade to the door that would take them to the Grand Staircase, Hermione dug in her heels. "Draco! I have to find Harry first!"

Draco grabbed her by the arms. "I'm not letting you out of my sight! We'll go find my father first..."

"No! Please, Draco, we have a bit of time. Surely a ship this size will stay afloat..."

"We don't know that, Hermione! You saw Officer Murdoch's face...!"

She touched his cheek, smiling tremulously up at him. "I did. And I know... I know we haven't much time. But Harry is _family._ I will _not_ go anywhere without him."

Draco dragged her to his chest and pressed his lips to her brow. He dug in his pocket for his watch. "It's almost midnight. Okay, go find him, Hermione, then I want you back up here in fifteen minutes."

"Twenty minutes."

"Hermione..."

"Twenty, Draco, I must have time to find him! He may not be in his cabin. I'll hurry!" Hermione replied. "Where do you want to meet?"

Draco ushered her into the First Class entrance lobby, a beautiful room accentuated by an enormous frosted-glass dome overhead. "Here. Meet me here." He pulled her in for another desperate kiss. "Hurry!"

"I will!" Gathering her skirt in her hand, Hermione raced for the stairs. She paused, looking back at him, a sweet smile curving her lips. "I love you."

Then she was gone.

**********

The Malfoys’ suite was on "B" Deck, and by the time Draco reached it, stern-faced cabin stewards and stewardesses were going door to door, giving instructions to "dress warmly" and "please, madam, put on your lifebelt" with a serenity that he knew was patently false.

"There you are," said Severus as Draco walked through the door, left open by the departing steward. Two lifebelts, ugly, bulky things, had been tossed on the settee. He gave Draco a once-over, his shrewd gaze taking in his former student's disheveled appearance. "You've been with her, haven't you?" The disgust was blatant in his voice.

Draco ignored him, looking instead to his father, who was standing near the window, peering out. "Did the steward tell you what has happened?"

Lucius turned to him, a sneer on his face and a glass of Scotch in his hand. "It's a little late to be having a lifeboat drill, isn't it?" he said lightly, as he lifted the glass to his lips.

"This is no drill, Father. _Titanic_ has hit an iceberg."

Severus shut the door and crossed over to Draco, touching him on the shoulder. "How do you know this? I didn't feel anything but a faint shudder. I assumed it was the engines."

"We saw it hit. It was enor-"

"We? You and your new whore?" Lucius said, his baleful gaze resting on his son.

Draco's fists clenched, and Severus gripped his arm forcefully. "Draco, no..." 

Draco shook him off and took a menacing step towards Lucius.

"If you weren't my father and it would dishonor Mother's memory, I would kill you for that!" he spat at him. "How _dare_ you speak ill of Hermione!"

Lucius set his glass down and stalked towards Draco. The stench of alcohol on his breath was proof of his inebriation. "I dare, boy, because you are single-handedly ruining everything I have striven to do for you!" he roared.

"I never asked for your help!"

"Both of you, keep your voices down," Severus said warningly. 

"Don't tell me what to do, Snape," Lucius replied, not taking his eyes off Draco. "You don't even belong here."

"Don't speak to him like that," Draco said. "Look, I don't want to argue with you..."

"Then you should be showing me a bit more respect, Draco." Lucius walked over to the settee and grabbed the lifebelts, tossing them to the floor. "Go on! Go have your life boat drill!"

"It isn't a drill!" Draco shouted. "This ship is sinking!"

Severus stepped between the two men, his expression grim as he caught Draco's attention. "Are you quite sure?"

"Oh, for God's sake, Snape! How would he know?" Lucius interrupted, but the other two men ignored him.

"Just now, Hermione and I saw the Captain on the Boat Deck, and First Officer Murdoch spoke to us. I could tell by his demeanor that something was grievously wrong!" 

"You say you saw the iceberg? It definitely hit the ship?"

Draco dragged one hand through his hair, painfully aware that every minute discussing it was another minute away from Hermione and ensuring her safety.

"Yes, I told you, Severus! We – Hermione and I – were on the well deck, just behind the bow, and the lights on deck made it hard to see because there is no moon tonight, but we heard the lookout's bell ring and they called out, "Iceberg, right ahead!" Then, it was just there and the ship turned, but not soon enough."

Severus stared at him searchingly. "Where is Miss Granger now?"

"She wanted to find her cousin."

Before Severus could answer, the door to the parlour was flung open and Wallace Greengrass strode in, Astoria fast on his heels.

"Have you heard? My man Howards has conferred with the chief steward, and they are saying that this isn't a boat drill, that _Titanic_ is foundering!" he said, his insipid face creased in alarm. 

"Well, this is absurd!" Astoria exclaimed. "They said this ship is unsinkable!"

"No one but the papers said anything of the sort, Astoria," Draco said. "‘Sinkable’ and 'practically unsinkable' are two entirely different things."

She stared at him, aghast. "You can't be serious. Titanic can't sink."

"I assure you, Astoria, I am very serious, and this ship most certainly _can_ sink." Draco leaned over and picked up one of the lifebelts, throwing it at Lucius.

Veronica had walked into the room and was standing behind her daughter. "Come, Astoria. You'll need to put on warmer clothing. Come, darling."

The two women went back to their stateroom, Astoria complaining all the way.

Oblivious to the tension in the room, Wallace sank down in a nearby armchair, rubbing his face with one hand. "Good heavens," he breathed.

Draco went into his stateroom, gathering up what few belongings he could put in his pockets - a money clip and trinkets that had belonged to his mother - and hurriedly dressed in clothing more suited to the frigid weather.

 _And the icy North Atlantic water,_ he thought as he pulled on a woolen jumper and his warmest overcoat. He drew his pocket watch out and swore. It was already twenty to one; Hermione had been waiting for him for twenty minutes longer than he'd made her promise.

Severus stood in the doorway when Draco turned to leave. "You do understand, Draco, that there are only twenty lifeboats on this ship and more than twenty-two hundred people."

Draco smirked. "If you're asking me if I understand that we will most likely die tonight, then yes, I do understand. It doesn't mean I'm not going to give it a fighting chance."

He strode past Severus, who grabbed his arm. "You're going to her? What about your father?"

"Severus, I have fallen in love with Hermione, and I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure that not so much as the heels of her shoes get wet. She needs me. Father... he doesn't need anyone." Draco paused, as the pain in his words sank in. "He never has, least of all me. He can fend for himself."

Lucius was still sitting on the settee when Draco walked through the parlour. He picked up the other lifebelt and went to the door. Opening the door, he paused, looking back at the three men. 

"Goodbye, Father. I'm... I'm sorry that I wasn't the kind of son of whom you could have been proud. I did my best and I do..." Draco paused, feeling his throat close up. "I do love you."

Lucius looked up at him, the disappointment and the scorn completely absent from his face for the first time in Draco's memory. The older man opened his mouth to speak, but Draco couldn't bear to think what his father would have to say. 

He left, shutting the door softly behind him. It was time to find Hermione.

**********

Hermione took the stairs down to "F" Deck at a run, pushing past other passengers who still seemed not to have grasped that their situation was growing precarious. When she reached her deck, she hitched up her skirt and took the corridor at a run. Stewards were going to each cabin, banging open the doors and pulling lifebelts off the wardrobes, barking out commands to "get up!" and "lifebelts on!" 

Passengers began to fill the corridors, many of them not understanding the harshly spoken English. Hermione pushed through the growing crowd and finally reached her cabin.

"What is going on? Do you know?" asked Hermione's cabin mate, Luisa. She was crouched on the floor, tying one of the lifebelts on her younger daughter, while the older one struggled to pull the bulky device over her head. Both girls were crying, alarmed by the noise and panic. 

Hermione pulled open the wardrobe door, yanking out her suitcase. She slammed it down on her bed and opened it.

"We've hit an iceberg. Luisa, the ship is sinking!"

The woman stared blankly at her. "I don't understand," she said at last, in her heavily accented English. 

Hermione pulled out her heaviest wool skirt. She threw it on the bunk and dove back into the case, tossing clothing right and left until she found two pair of cotton stockings and a flannel petticoat.

"Luisa, don't just stand there!" she cried when she looked over her shoulder. "Get the girls into their warmest clothes and hurry!"

Hermione pulled the wool skirt on over her head and fastened it over the one she was wearing. Her cold fingers fumbled with her bootlaces, and she felt a fingernail catch, making her gasp at the sharp pain. "Ouch, damn it!"

She pulled on both pair of stockings and the petticoat, then put her boots back on. Luisa finished getting herself and her daughters dressed in coats and scarves, and with a muttered "buona fortuna", she vanished into the press of passengers in the corridor.

Tying the red shawl around her neck and pulling on her gloves, Hermione reached under her pillow for her journal. After a moment's thought, she shook the pillow out of its case and folded the journal into it. 

She grabbed her coat and lifebelt, then joined the rest of the steerage passengers streaming towards the exits.

**********

Harry had just fallen asleep when the door was slammed open, light from the corridor flooding the room. 

"Everybody up! Get up! Lifebelts on!" shouted the steward as he reached up and pulled the four lifebelts stacked atop it down onto the floor. "Everybody up!" 

As he moved on to the next cabin, Ron raised himself up on one elbow, swiping the back of his hand over his face. "What the buggering hell?" he asked groggily as Harry swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

He didn't expect the layer of ice-cold water, an inch or so deep, that covered the floor. "Shite! What the hell is this?"

Stripping off his sodden socks, Harry darted out into the corridor. Other passengers, confused and alarmed by the shouting of the stewards, were beginning to poke their heads out of their cabins. It was a multi-lingual cacophony, and Harry had to grab the nearest steward to catch his attention over the din.

"What is it? What's happening?" he asked. The steward pulled loose, intent on his task, and Harry had to grab him by the shoulder and spin him around. "What's going on?"

"She's sinking by the bow," the steward replied, only his excellent training keeping the panic in his eyes at bay. "Get your lifebelt on and... and good luck to you."

Shocked speechless, Harry stared as the steward rushed off. Ron came to the door. The water was already ankle deep. "Harry, what's going on?"

"Get dressed. The ship's sinking and we need to find Hermione!"

"Blimey," Ron breathed. He started grabbing for his trousers and boots as Harry came back in and started pulling on his own clothes. Their other two cabin mates, both of whom spoke no English but needed no translation to know that something was terribly wrong, mirrored their movements and began dragging on their clothing.

**********

The clock at the head of the Grand Staircase was chiming one o'clock, and still, Hermione was nowhere to be seen. Draco paced back and forth, forcing passengers and crewmen to walk around him. He was afraid to leave for fear that Hermione would arrive and find him missing, yet the fear that she was hurt or otherwise trapped was nearly overwhelming him.

The casual disinterest and genteel complaints of the First Class passengers at being dragged from their warm staterooms had finally given way to a kind of discreet panic, made even more so after the first distress rocket had been fired fifteen minutes prior. And in the time since, five lifeboats had already been launched, one from the port side of the ship and five from starboard.

He had spoken briefly to Mrs. Brown, and she had given him a fierce hug that had made his throat tighten. He gripped her arms through her heavy fur coat, then kissed each of her plump cheeks. 

"Go," he had said to her. "Hurry to a lifeboat and don't delay. And if you see Hermione..."

Mrs. Brown had cupped his face in her gloved hands, tears pooling in her eyes. "I will take her with me, and I promise you, she'll be safe. God bless you, Draco. And good luck."

With those last words, she was gone.

Now Draco was near panic, and he'd just decided to take a turn around the deck to see if he could find Hermione when he saw a flash of bright red hair outside on the promenade. 

Ron Weasley.

Draco sprinted down the stairs and out the starboard side doors to the Boat Deck. It was teeming with people; women screamed and begged to stay with their husbands, while their children cried in terror. The loud shouts of the officers directing the lifeboat launch echoed over the din of the wooden lifeboats being lowered on their stiff winches.

Ron had turned aft and was moving swiftly through the crowd; Draco could hear him calling Hermione's name. 

"Weasley! Ron Weasley!" Draco shouted, hoping the other man would be able to hear him over the noise.

As luck would have it, he did.

"Malfoy!" Ron turned in place and parted the crowd with his tall, lanky body until he reached Draco.

"Where is she?" Draco yelled. "Hermione! Where is she?"

His heart lodged in his throat as Ron's expression of hope collapsed. "We hoped she was with you. Harry's looking for her on the port side."

"Bloody hell!" Draco screamed, startling a woman to the left of him so badly that she stumbled into another woman and both went sprawling onto the deck. Draco grabbed two handfuls of his hair and squeezed his eyes shut. Ron's hand came down on his shoulder.

"We'll find her. Don't worry, mate. We'll find her," he said. 

"Malfoy!"

Both men turned to find Harry forcing his way through the crowd to them. He grabbed Draco by both arms. 

"Is she here? Did you put her on a boat?" he asked, his green eyes frantic behind his spectacles. 

Draco could only shake his head. Harry thrust him away, looking wildly out at the lifeboats steadily rowing away from the ship, sinking into the darkness surrounding them. 

"She's still on the ship," Draco said. "She must be. She would never leave without you." _Or me._

Draco took both Ron and Harry's arms in his hands, and led them away from the mad scene around the lifeboats. "Where's her cabin located? I'll go find her."

"We'll both go-" Harry said, but Draco cut him off with a decisive shake of his head. 

"No, you and Weasley stay here and keep searching the deck. If we all go, or even the two of us, we could miss her. I'll go."

"You don't even know where to look!"

Draco smiled grimly. "She's a smart woman, your cousin, and I know she would try to find the quickest way up here. Where is her cabin?"

Harry stared at him, blankly. "Um... ‘F’ Deck.... F-44. It's aft, on the port side."

Draco gave Harry a grateful shake. "I'll find her!" he shouted as he dashed away.

**********

After leaving her cabin, Hermione went to the nearest stairwell, only to find it clogged with steerage passengers desperate to get topside. It only took a few minutes to realize that all of the nearby stairwells were bottlenecked, so she made her way to the single elevator, only to find the shaft empty.

"Damn it!" she swore to herself. Harry's cabin was on "E" deck forward, and while she was certain that he wouldn't still be there with the ship sinking at the head, she really had no idea where he might go or if he were outside looking for her.

She had to find him!

She trotted around the corner of the stairwell, only to find that the watertight door was already closed. She was trapped.

Instantly, a choking fear gripped Hermione, and she fell back against the wall, gasping. The passengers around her were beginning to panic, and she fought the terror that was threatening to consume her.

There had to be a way out of here!

Taking a deep breath, she plunged into the mass of people and fought her way up to the top of the stairwell to "E" Deck. That deck was even more crowded, and Hermione found herself shoved aside into an empty cabin, as passengers laden with their lifebelts and what personal belongings they could carry with them milled helplessly in the corridor.

It was madness.

**********

Time was passing with an unnatural speed, or so it seemed to Draco. When he ran back into the First Class lobby and down the Grand Staircase, twenty minutes had already passed since he had met Ron and Harry on the Boat Deck.

His headlong flight was brought short on "D" Deck; the stairs were covered in water, waist-deep. Draco was in it up to his knees before he could stop. He slipped and went down on one hip, pain winging its way all the way up his spine, but more excruciating than that was the water itself. It was numbingly cold and within seconds, his feet felt frozen, even through the layers of wool and leather. 

Draco ran back up to the landing, but the water was rising alarmingly fast. Looking back, he could see that the reception room was almost completely submerged, the furniture beginning to float in a mass towards the stairs and effectively cutting off his intended route.

"Damn it," he breathed, before turning and running back up to "C" Deck. He'd have to find another way.

"C" Deck was mostly deserted but for a few panicked stewards who tried to herd him back to the stairs, but Draco ran full-tilt aft, until he was clutching a stitch in his side and heaving for breath.

When he reached the door at the end of the corridor, he burst through onto the Second Class Promenade, then through another door and down the stairwell there. He came out in the Second Class dining saloon. He turned the corner of the stairwell and came to a halt.

It was chaos. 

In a horrifying contrast to the relative silence of the deck above, Third Class passengers were crammed in the corridor below, a locked metal gate barring them from access to the stairwell. A steward stood at the head of the stairs; he gave Draco a very stern look.

"Sir, you need to return upstairs!"

Draco stared at the gate and the people clinging to it. "Is that gate locked?" he asked, aghast.

"Sir, please, I won't ask you again..."

The people on the other side of the gate were screaming to be let out, rattling the gate with so much force that Draco was shocked that they couldn't bring it down with their bare hands. 

"I need to get down there," he shouted at the steward, who goggled at him in shock. 

"Sir, I won't tell you again-"

"No, you don't understand! These people are going to die down here!"

"I have my orders!"

"The hell with your orders!" Draco screamed in his face. "I have to get down there and find someone!"

Then, miraculously, Draco heard her voice over the clamor.

"Draco! Draco, I'm here!" Hermione cried out as she forced her way to the front of the crowd.

"Hermione! Oh, Hermione, thank God! I've been looking everywhere for you!"

The panic in her face was excruciating for him to witness. "Draco, there's no other way out!"

At his side, the steward made a jackrabbit-quick feint, as if to run, but Draco grabbed his collar and hauled him down the stairs to the gate. He pressed the terrified man's face against the metal grate. 

"Do you have keys?"

"Sir, I have my orders!" the man cried out. 

"There are women and children down here. The woman I love is right there. Are you going to tell me I should walk away and let her drown?" Draco snarled.

"Drown? But no one has said-"

"Don't be absurd. You can feel the bloody ship tilting! I'm no expert, but all the signs are pointing to the fact that this ship is going to be lying on the ocean floor by morning!" Draco readjusted his grip on the steward's collar and slammed him again into the gate.

"Draco! Don't hurt him!" Hermione cried out. Draco spared her an incredulous look. 

"I am trying to save your life, woman, and you're worried that I'm going to hurt the man planning on leaving you to drown? Stop that nonsense and check his pockets. He must have a key."

With Draco's presence, Hermione's fear had abated. She felt safe now that he was here, and with that assurance, her temper peaked.

"I'll have you know, Draco Malfoy, that I do not appreciate you speaking to me in such a fashion. I won't tolerate it," she said as she foraged through the steward's pocket, giving a crow of triumph when her fingers curled around a ring of keys.

"Sir, please!"

"Which one is it?"

The steward finally pointed out the correct key. Draco fit it into the lock and wrenched the gate open.

Shoving the steward away, he snatched Hermione out of the mass of people stampeding up the stairwell. He put both hands on either side of her face and kissed her fervently, deeply, until she was nearly swooning against him in a heady mixture of fear, relief, and love.

"I wanted to look for Harry, but by the time I got my lifebelt, the watertight doors were already closed-" she cried in between kisses, her face damp with tears and perspiration.

"He's up on deck with Weasley. They've been looking for you!"

"Oh goodness... they're okay?"

Draco urged her into a run as they took the stairs back up to the Boat Deck.

"They're fine. Run, sweetheart... we have to get you on a lifeboat."

**********

They came out on the starboard side, which was still teeming with people – and one lifeboat, Collapsible C. It was just being lowered to the water; Hermione could see that it was only half full. She grasped Draco's hand.

"Draco, the lifeboats... "

"Hermione!"

She whirled around at the sound of Harry's voice. He rushed up to her, pulling into a tight embrace. Ron was behind him; he reached out and awkwardly patted her shoulder. 

"Harry! Oh, Harry! I've been looking everywhere for you!"

Harry grinned and kissed both of her cheeks. "Well, I'd say you've found me, love, so dry your tears."

"Enough of this," Draco said, even though he was giving Hermione a look fraught with emotion. "Come on, darling, into the boat with you."

But the bedlam surrounding it was fast reaching a boiling point. People, both men and women, pushed and shoved in an attempt to reach the half-empty boat. First Officer Murdoch was standing there, a pistol in his hand. 

"Stand back! Stand back!" he said, his voice high-pitched with anxiety.

Draco put himself between Hermione and the officer's gun, but Ron Weasley pushed past them both. Murdoch flinched as Ron came hurtling towards him. 

A shot rang out.

Draco clapped his hand over Hermione's eyes and turned her towards his chest, but not soon enough for her to miss the bright spray of blood splattering Ron's lifebelt. 

"Ron!" Harry yelled once, reaching out for his new friend as he fell, lifeless, to the deck. In the next second, another passenger was flung forward by the teeming mass of passengers, and Murdoch pulled the trigger again.

Hermione screamed into Draco's chest, and he clutched her tightly. "Oh God, oh God, have mercy," she moaned. Despite Draco's attempt to keep her face averted, she turned and looked.

First Officer Murdoch raised his hand in a salute to the crewmen who were staring at him in horror. Then he put the gun to his temple and pulled the trigger one last time.

Hermione shrieked and fell limp against Draco. He caught her dead weight, afraid for an irrational moment that she had been harmed somehow, but when he looked in her face, he saw that she was only in shock, her chest rising and falling rapidly in her fear.

"There, Hermione, it's okay. You're going to be just fine," he murmured into her thick curls. "Potter. Potter!"

Harry stooped down next to him, his face rigid in shock. "Is she okay? Hermione?"

"She's fine. Potter, please tell me there are more lifeboats on the other side," Draco said quietly. Harry nodded.

"Not many, though, so we need to hurry."

Draco pulled Hermione to her feet, and they pushed through the frantic passengers, back through the First Class lobby and out the other side. To his horror, he could see that there were only two boats left and one being lowered, all at the bow of the ship, where the deck was already dipping below the surface of the ocean.

"Bloody hell!" Draco swore as they ran forward. To his relief, two lifeboats were still being loaded. Hermione, still dazed from the First Officer's suicide, stumbled against him as he swung her around. 

"Here we are, darling. Oh, Hermione, I love you dearly!" Draco cried as he held her face between both his hands and kissed her reverently. She flung her arms around his neck.

Harry took her from Draco and hugged her, swallowing back the tears that wanted to fall. "I love you, Hermione. You've been my best friend. Tell your parents... tell them thank you for being so kind to me..."

Their words penetrated the fog in Hermione's head. "What...?" 

"Get into the boat, Hermione," Draco said, and he hoisted her up and into the lifeboat. "Always remember... I love you."

Before Hermione could react, the boat started descending towards the water. 

"No!" she screamed. She clambered back to her feet and stretched towards him, but her hands fell just shy of reaching the edge of the deck. "Draco, no! I want to stay with you!"

Draco gripped the railing and, for the first that night, he was unable to hold back his tears. "Hermione, I love you!"

Harry turned away, pressing his hand over his mouth in grief.

Hermione shrieked and thrashed as two women tried to pull her back. Draco leaned over the rail, wanting to watch her until he could see her no longer. But when the boat was level with "A" Deck Promenade, Hermione leapt wildly, launching her body towards the ship.

The women in the lifeboat screamed, and Draco swore so violently that Harry spun around to look at what made him react so. 

"Damn it! Hermione! What are you doing?" Draco shouted, as he leaned as far over as he dared to see what was happening.

Passengers still standing at the Promenade railing had pulled Hermione back onto the ship. She shook them off and ran.

Draco and Harry sprinted for the door to the Grand Staircase.

**********

"Get into the boat, Hermione."

Draco's words came to her as if through a murky fog. She felt herself lifted and hands supporting her as she was set into a lifeboat. She looked up; Draco and Harry were both smiling down at her.

"Always remember... I love you," Draco said as the boat gave a great jolt and started moving towards the water.

The fog lifted and Hermione sprang up from her seat, flinging herself towards the deck that was quickly falling out of reach. "No!" she screamed. "Draco, no! I want to stay with you!"

"Miss, please! You'll capsize us! Please sit down!" Two women grabbed her and pulled her away from the edge of the boat. Hermione felt detached from the other passengers as they pleaded with her to sit down. 

When the lifeboat was even with the Promenade railing, Hermione slapped away the hands of the woman clinging to her arm and took a single, mighty leap for the ship.

She landed across the rail, half on, half off the ship, and winded from the force of it. Above her, she heard Draco shout, but all she could think was that she needed to get to him.

"Good God, miss, what were you thinking?" yelled one of the men who pulled her back onto _Titanic._

Hermione tore free of the man's grip and ran down the Promenade, desperate to reach Draco. She dodged other frantic passengers, now beginning to make their way aft, as the bow was now fully submerged.

When she reached the lobby, Draco was racing down the stairs towards her, his face a terrifying mixture of terror and rage and love. He crushed her into his arms as she flung herself at him, sobbing. 

"I can't leave you, Draco! I can't leave you now!" she cried into his neck, and then he was kissing her frantically, all over her face, and all she could do was clutch his shoulders in relief.

"God above, woman! You scared me to death!" Draco shook her hard, but the sight of her pretty face crumpling in grief only made him enfold her in his arms once more. He looked over the top of her curly head, to see Harry watching them sadly.

"The last boat is gone," he said. Draco buried his face in Hermione's hair, breathing deeply to regain a measure of calm.

Hermione reached out and Harry took her hand. She turned her head and gave him a tremulous smile.

"We'll be fine. God will watch over us," she said with such authority that Draco was tempted to believe her.

A woman screamed nearby, and it only took Draco one glance behind him to see why. Water was raging up the stairwell, pulling people under by its violent undertow. 

"We need to get outside," Draco said, putting Hermione in front of him as they raced for the port side doors.

**********


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER FIVE**

15 April 1912  
453 miles off the coast of Newfoundland

 

 _Titanic_ was singing her final song.

The upward tilt of the stern was, to Draco's inexpert eyes, close to 25 or 30 degrees, almost too steep to climb. The ship's orchestra, which had continued to play even as the terrified passengers around them screamed their lament, had laid down their instruments at last and said their final farewell.

Draco looked forward and saw that the bridge was underwater; beyond that the sea was filled with thrashing, shrieking people, clinging to anything that would float – deck chairs, doors that had come loose from their hinges, and each other. The air was filled with the sounds of the dying and Draco wondered if his father was out there, if Severus was there. Or Astoria. 

But above that, the sound of the ship's violent death knell was loudest of all. The steel groaned beneath them as the water filling _Titanic_ proved too much for the majestic ship to withstand. A loud crack, then another, sounded as the cables anchoring funnel number 1 snapped, and the massive cylinder, too heavy for the expansion joints anchoring its base, was ripped from the deck.

Hermione screamed as the funnel fell forward into the water, crushing the people trying to swim frantically away from the sinking ship. Draco clasped her tightly to his side.

"Let's go. We need to get to the stern," he said, as Harry moved to Hermione's other side, and together they ran up the slanting deck. Behind them, there was a great crash of breaking glass and more screams from inside the First Class entrance lobby – the ornate glass ceiling dome had given way at last.

Those passengers who weren't leaping into the water in an attempt to escape were doing just as Draco, Hermione, and Harry were doing – rushing for the ever-rising stern of the ship. Twice Hermione slipped, so by the time they reached the end of the Boat Deck, Draco was nearly carrying her.

Harry leaped off the end of the deck onto the Poop Deck below and held out his arms for Hermione. "Jump!" he yelled.

She leaped and stumbled to her knees, crying out in pain, but shook her head as Draco jumped down beside her. 

"I'm okay!" she said with a grateful nod as he grabbed her hand in his.

Harry grasped her other hand as Draco helped her to her feet. The sound of the ship's screams was as chilling as those of its erstwhile passengers. 

They ran.

***********

The stern was crowded with people struggling to stay upright on the sloping deck. Every few seconds, someone's feet would go out from beneath them, and they would slide, screaming, back down the deck and into the water rising swiftly towards them.

Together, Draco and Harry hauled Hermione to the stern railing, and Draco put her between the iron bars and his body. "Hang on tight, darling. I've got you."

The ship rose higher and higher, until the sheer effort of holding on made Draco's muscles quiver in agony. Hermione had fallen eerily silent, and when he looked down at her face, he saw that she was staring at him with an oddly beatific expression.

"I love you," she said simply. 

He kissed her, then pressed his cheek to hers. "It's been my honor, Hermione Granger, to love you." 

She clung to him, smiling through her tears.

The moment was shattered as, with a sound like a mortal scream, as one of the remaining three funnels ripped loose from its moorings, crashing into the sea. Seconds later, the electric lights, which had burned even as the ship was dying, flickered and went dark. 

The cold, still air was filled with the sound of metal ripping and wood splintering as _Titanic_ began to split just behind the third funnel. "Hang on!" someone screamed, as the stern dropped back towards the water, so fast that Draco only had time enough to wrap both arms through the railing, pressing Hermione tightly against his body.

The stern slammed back into the sea with jarring force, and Hermione fell to her knees. Harry, who was still clinging to the railing beside them, helped her back up, clasping his hand over hers. 

"This is it," he said, as the stern once more started to rise. 

For a terrifying moment, Draco's mind went blank. But then his eyes fell on a man in galley whites, swinging his leg over the railing so that he was clinging to the outside of the ship.

"Hermione! Climb over! Now, darling, now!"

She did as he told, scrambling over the rails as the stern reached its zenith, bobbing like a child's toy before the weight of the engines and boilers, not to mention the water that was pouring into the bow, began to drag the ship downward.

Within seconds, what was left of _Titanic_ began its inexorable slide into the sea.

Draco climbed over the railing and grabbed Hermione's hand tightly in his. "It's going to be fine. Don't let go of me, Hermione."

She nodded, her wide-eyed gaze fastened on the rising water and the people below them being sucked under the violent, churning mass of debris.

On her other side, Harry was shouting frantically. "When you go under, start kicking for the surface, hard! The ship's suction will pull you down, but you can swim, Hermione, I know you can!"

"Harry, I'm scared!" Hermione cried. "Oh my God!"

"Get up!" Draco shouted, as he crouched on the railing, pulling Hermione up with him. "When I tell you, take the deepest breath you can!"

"Okay! Don't let go of me!"

"I won't! Okay... get ready... NOW!" Draco took a deep breath of the frigid air.

Hermione and Harry both sucked in a mighty lungful of air, then seconds later, _Titanic_ fell away, slipping under the surface of the North Atlantic and starting the long journey to the bottom of the sea.

**********

Hermione was dying.

As she was pulled into the icy water, it felt as if every muscle in her body was seizing up into an agonizing ball of pain. Her skirt, the wool made heavy by the weight of the water, wrapped around her legs, and she tried to kick it out of the way so that she could free her feet, but she was numb all over, and the best she could do was flail weakly. She tried to hold onto Draco's hand, but he was ripped loose from her grip. She tried desperately to reach for him, but nothing but water met her efforts.

She opened her eyes and immediately wished she hadn't; the water burned them, a combination of salt and the freezing temperature making her squeeze them tightly shut. An air bubble rising from the sinking ship caught the hem of her skirt and, blessedly, sent the voluminous wool garment swirling away from her ankles.

Hermione kicked for the surface, and just as she thought her lungs would burst, she emerged into a cacophony of screams.

She dragged in a deep breath and looked frantically around for Draco or Harry. She couldn't see anything farther than the length of her arm. Without a moon or the ship's lights, everything was dark, her fellow passengers only faint, pale shapes thrashing in the water.

"Draco! Harry!" Hermione screamed. "Draco!"

She called for them until her voice cracked and gave out. Stunned by grief, Hermione floated in the water until her body was so numb, even the pain disappeared. A wide door that looked as if it had belonged in First Class was floating nearby, and she pulled her way slowly through the water until she reached it. It was several more minutes before she could muster the strength to drag herself onto the flat surface. 

She lay there and stared up at the sky, her eyes automatically searching for the constellation Draco. When she found it at last, the tears came, a welcome warmth against her cold skin. 

They were gone.

**********

"Here's one! Give me a hand!"

"He looks dead, leave him."

"No, I can see his breath in the air. Make room there, and hand me a blanket."

The voices came to Draco as if through a long, wind-filled tunnel, fading in and out as he was dragged over the edge of a lifeboat and his lifebelt removed. 

His eyelids fluttered as he tried to focus on the man leaning over him, tucking a woolen blanket around his chin as he was laid gently back on the wooden slat that served as the boat's seat. 

"Herrr... my... nee," he slurred, but the man was lifting a flask of whisky to his lips, and, as the alcohol burned a warm path down his throat, Draco lost consciousness once again.

Unbeknownst to Draco, another man floated nearby, already blue in death, his round spectacles hanging from his face by one earpiece, his eyes unseeing behind them.

**********

"There you are, love. I was beginning to wonder if you were going to wake up." Strange hands tucked the blanket covering her more snugly around her ears.

Hermione blinked up at the sky, which was still dark above her, but lightening gradually to a dull pinkish grey at the horizon. Her head throbbed and her teeth chattered, but when a gentle arm lifted her head and a flask of water was pressed to her lips, she drank gratefully.

She was in a lifeboat; it was nearly empty but for one of _Titanic's_ officers and two of her crewman, two other passengers who sat silently together, and another, a blanket covering their face. She dimly wondered if it was Draco or Harry, but she was too tired to ask and terrified of the answer if she did.

The soft murmurs of the rowing crewmen and their officer eventually lulled Hermione back to sleep, and she dreamed of the man who had once loved her desperately, insanely.

**********

When she opened her eyes again, a ship loomed high above her, blocking out the weak sunlight.

_Carpathia._

"Can you sit up, love?" a voice asked. It was one of the other rescued passengers, a woman wearing a bedraggled, fur-trimmed coat and a kindly smile. She slipped an arm around Hermione's waist and helped her up. "There you are. We'll get you warmed up soon enough. What's your name?"

Her name? Hermione struggled to find thoughts, to say nothing of the words to express them. "Hermione," she said at last.

"That's a pretty name. I'm Elizabeth." With a geniality that seemed strangely out of place, given the circumstances, she offered her hand. "We're going to be fine, you know. Just fine.”

As the crew of the _Carpathia_ plucked them out of the sea, Hermione wondered if she would ever be fine again.

**********

 **EPILOGUE**

15 April 1912  
RMS _Carpathia_

 

After discharging the last survivor of _Titanic_ , lifeboat number 12 was hoisted aboard _Carpathia_ , and, twenty minutes later, was _en route_ to New York.

Draco sat by himself in the dining saloon, staring into the dregs at the bottom of his teacup. From the utter blankness of his thoughts, a nebulous memory came to mind, of a country fair he'd once attended in the Wiltshire village not far from home.

Like most traveling carnivals, there had been food stalls and jugglers, pony rides and dancers waving colorful banners, but Draco most remembered the fortuneteller. She sat outside her shabby striped tent, shuffling her tarot deck and begging everyone who passed to drink her tea and have their fortune read in the leaves.

At the time, Draco had laughed derisively, but his mother had always found such flights of fancy a harmless distraction, so he had accompanied her into the dark pavilion, and sat with her at the fortuneteller's table.

While Draco chose to drink the crone's tea instead, the fortuneteller had read the tarot to Narcissa, weaving a tale of long life and prosperity – even now, Draco felt a bubble of grief in his throat at the irony of it – but when she had taken the cup from Draco and peered into the bottom, she had given him a look of shrewd surprise.

"Water will be your undoing, my fine, handsome man. Be wary of it." She looked deeper still, her long nose practically touching the rim of the cup. "A woman will lead you astray, but if you follow your heart, you will find the love the stars have promised you."

She gave him a wily smile and held out her hand, wiggling her fingers for payment. Narcissa put two coins in the woman's hand, but Draco snorted in disbelief.

"That's it?" he asked. "Avoid taking baths and look to the stars for love? You're mad, old woman."

She had only laughed at him, and shooed them out so that she could fleece her next willing victim.

Now, as Draco pushed the cup aside and rose from the table, he thought that she'd had her prediction backwards – he'd found his love and the sea had taken her away from him.

Draco's lifeboat had been one of the first pulled from the sea, and when he stepped aboard _Carpathia_ , he found himself surrounded by the welcoming generosity of both the ship's crew and her passengers. _Carpathia_ had been on her regular route, bound for Fiume, when _Titanic's_ distress call had reached her. However, there was no displeasure from the rescuers that Draco could see, and he was grateful to put himself into their caring hands.

After being seen by the ship's doctor and given a pair of warm, woolen socks and pair of shoes that were only a little loose, along with several cups of very strong coffee, Draco had wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and dozed in a deck chair in the morning sun. When he awoke, it was nearly noon and habit sent him in search of a cup of tea, finding it in the dining saloon where he now sat, surrounded by a mixture of passengers from both ships.

At first, he'd looked around the room, hoping to catch a glimpse of Hermione, but she wasn't there, and he hadn't really expected her to be. So he had drunk his tea and a bowl of savory broth that a steward had set before him, and he was warm at last, but still shivering as his body struggled to release the shock of his ordeal.

When the crowd in the dining saloon grew larger than he cared for, Draco went back out on deck. Several of _Carpathia's_ officers were going from person to person, writing their names on a clipboard, then moving on. Twice earlier, Draco had waylaid the officers, asking if one Hermione Granger had been rescued, but both times he'd received somber looks and answers in the negative.

Draco walked up to the Boat Deck forward, finding a quiet spot where he could sit and wonder what the rest of his life would hold.

**********

The growling of his stomach woke Draco from a fitful doze. The sun had gone overhead and was now sitting near the horizon, turning the sky into a watercolor of pinks and oranges and purples.

Standing, Draco stretched until his back cracked with a satisfying pop. He was starving; the soup he'd eaten earlier and what must've been a gallon of tea and coffee just wouldn't suffice.

Now that he was awake, Hermione was instantly at the forefront of his thoughts, and the familiar grief was like a punch to the stomach so fierce that he wanted to curl up and scream from the pain of it.

Draco staggered over to the railing and gripped it in both hands, closing his eyes tightly to hold back the tears that threatened. When he opened them again, he looked down at the deck below, which was teeming with _Titanic's_ rescued Third Class passengers. 

Sighing, he looked up towards the horizon and a flash of red caught his eye. Slowly, he turned his gaze to the right and it fell on a woman standing near the bow. The wind had lifted the hem of her skirt and it fluttered around her bare feet, an odd sight even given the events of the day.

But the red scarf tied around the woman's head held Draco's attention. It completely covered her hair but for the end of her long brown plait, and the tassels danced merrily in the breeze.

The scene was so hauntingly familiar that Draco called out Hermione's name before he could stop himself.

Then, astonishingly, the woman turned around, looking for the source of the call.

Draco nearly went to his knees in shock, but he heaved himself up and dashed for the stairs.

"Hermione! Hermione!"

People turned to stare as Draco leaped the last three steps, stumbling on the well-polished deck, but he took no heed of them as he raced towards Hermione, who had bolted from the railing to run towards him. 

"Hermione!" Draco shouted as he covered the last bit of distance between them and then she was in his arms, clutching him tightly as she sobbed into his coat. Draco could only stand there, tears streaming from his own eyes, and hold her close, breathing in the scent of the sea that still clung to her hair and skin. But she was alive... she was alive! Alive and in his arms and he knew that he would never, ever let her go again.

Finally, he cupped her wet face in his hands and stared down at her beautiful face. He kissed her reverently as he smoothed the pads of his thumbs over her cheeks, wiping away the tears that still spilled from her eyes. He kissed her with his eyes open, afraid that if he closed them, this would all be an awful nightmare.

When they parted at last, Draco gazed down at her, taking in her tired, but happy eyes and he gently touched a bruise that had discolored her jaw. 

"My darling, darling girl. I thought I had lost you. I thought you were dead!" he said, pulling her close again, laying his cheek against her hair.

"I tried to hold on to you, Draco! I did! But... but... the water was so cold, and I couldn't feel anything!" Hermione's eyes filled again with tears, and he did the only thing he could think to do – he kissed her.

**********

"Harry?"

Hermione shook her head sadly. "I've looked everywhere for him, and I've asked the stewards, but no one has seen him or anyone who fits his description." 

They were sitting together in _Carpathia's_ First Class lounge, where many of _Titanic's_ passengers chose to gather. Accommodations had been offered, but being unmarried, Draco and Hermione would have had to separate, and neither found that prospect appealing in the least. Instead, they found a secluded corner and a comfortable armchair, in which Hermione was now curled with a warm blanket and cup of tea. Draco sat at her feet, similarly wrapped in a blanket, his head pillowed against Hermione's knee. 

"I suppose my father and Severus have died. I did see Astoria and her mother earlier, but Veronica took one look at me and dragged Astoria away." He glanced up at Hermione and smiled thinly. "That chapter of my life is now closed."

Hermione stroked her fingers through Draco's hair, a thoughtful expression on her face. "Don't you miss him? Your father? I know he wasn't... the most pleasant man, but he was your father."

"I suppose, in a way, I do. I miss what could have been, had he been a more loving parent. Severus, however – he was my friend and I will miss him deeply. He was more of a father to me than Lucius ever was."

Draco looked up as a steward paused on his way past. "May I bring you and the miss anything? More tea perhaps, or a plate of sandwiches?" the man offered.

Draco nodded. "Both, please. That would be nice, thank you. I don't suppose we could have a pair of pillows, too?"

The steward nodded kindly. "Someone will be coming soon to bring more pillows and blankets. I'll be sure that you are taken care of."

After the steward moved on, Draco looked up at Hermione, to find her smiling down at him. "I love you," she whispered, mindful of the other passengers camping nearby.

Draco clasped her hand in his and brought it to his lips, placing a feather-light kiss on her palm. "I never imagined that I could be so happy and so sad, all at one time. All those people, Hermione..." Draco replied, shaking his head.

"Will they ever know how many died, Draco? How will they ever know?"

"Only God knows for sure. May they rest in peace."

Hermione bowed her head, bending over until she could touch her brow to his, and she murmured a prayer to those lost. As she whispered "amen," Draco kissed her trembling mouth.

"Amen."

**********

18 April 1912  
New York City

 

RMS _Carpathia_ glided into New York Harbor three days later, under the cover of night and a light, misting rain. Draco stood at the railing, gripped by the sight of the beautiful city spread before him. A week ago, the prospect of moving to America and starting a life he didn't want had left him in the throes of deep depression. But now...

Now.

Despite all that had been lost – he was as good as penniless now – Draco watched Manhattan draw ever closer and sensed the proverbial new world awaiting him with open arms. He supposed he still had his position at Haversham and Finley, but he wasn't sure that it appealed to him anymore. He would do something else – open a shop, perhaps – and he would marry the love of his life. That was the stuff of dreams, his dreams, and he took a moment to think of his mother and how proud she would have been that he'd finally taken control of his own life and taken the advice of the old fortuneteller. 

Draco looked over at Hermione, who stood beneath an umbrella kindly donated by one of _Carpathia's_ passengers. She was staring raptly up at the Statue of Liberty, France's gift to the United States, her eyes alight with the same sense of opportunity that he felt, and he knew that his life and fortunes were inextricably linked with hers.

Draco took Hermione's hand in his, then pulled her into his arms, and together they watched the great lady welcome them home.

The End


End file.
